Tears and laughter, they are so much Gaelic to me.
Light black. From pole to pole.
The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
HAMM: We're not beginning to... to... mean something? CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.) Ah that's a good one!
Do we mean love, when we say love?
You are not satisfied unless form is so strictly divorced from content that you can comprehend the one without almost without bothering to read the other.