Let's go." "We can't." "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.
We all are born mad. Some remain so.
I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
What are we doing here, that is the question.
No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.