Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

Estragon: What about hanging ourselves? Vladimir: Hmm. It'd give us an erection.

Absolute virtue is as sure to kill a man as absolute vice is, let alone the dullness of it and the pomposities of it.

And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept.

Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

My notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record.

Light black. From pole to pole.