To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail, that failure is his world and the shrink from desertion, art and craft, good housekeeping, living.

It's a lot to ask of one creature, it's a lot to ask, that he should first behave as if he were not, then as if he were, before being admitted to that peace where he neither is, nor is not, and where the language dies that permits of such expressions.

Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.

[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

If by Godot I had meant God I would have said God, and not Godot.

I knew it would soon be the end, so I played the part, you know, the part of — how shall I say, I don’t know.

Unhappy, but not unhappy enough.