For the only way one can speak of nothing is to speak of it as though it were something, just as the only way one can speak of God is to speak of him as though he were a man, which to be sure he was, in a sense, for a time, and as the only way one can speak of man, even our anthropologists have realized that, is to speak of him as though he were a termite.

Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.

POZZO: I am blind. (Silence.) ESTRAGON: Perhaps he can see into the future.

The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.

Yes, light, there is no other word for it.

The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.

I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.