The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day.
Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.
Imagination at wit's end spreads its sad wings.
To him who has nothing it is forbidden not to relish filth.
Estragon: Suppose we repented. Vladimir: Repented what? Estragon: Oh...(He reflects.) We wouldn’t have to go into the details. Vladimir: Our being born?
I have nothing but wastes and wilds of self-translation before me for many miserable months to come.