The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's get to work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone more, in the midst of nothingness!

What is this love that more than all the cursed deadly or any other of its great movers so moves the soul and soul what is this soul that more than by any of its great movers is by love so moved?

The essential doesn't change.

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.

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

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