Vladimir: I don't understand. Estragon: Use your intelligence, can't you? Vladimir uses his intelligence. Vladimir: (finally) I remain in the dark.

Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.

Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.

To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

Two in distressmake sorrow less.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.