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

Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.

But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!

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

As it is with the love of the body, so with the friendship of the mind, the full is only reached by admittance to the most retired places.

Watt had watched people smile and thought he understood how it was done.

I always thought old age would be a writer’s best chance. Whenever I read the late work of Goethe or W. B. Yeats I had the impertinence to identify with it. Now, my memory’s gone, all the old fluency’s disappeared. I don’t write a single sentence without saying to myself, ‘It’s a lie!’ So I know I was right. It’s the best chance I’ve ever had.