An imaginative adventure does not enjoy the same corsets as reportage.

That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.

My dear Tom, Delighted to get your letter. Do write again. This life is terrible and I don't understand how it can be endured.

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.

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.

The end of a life is always vivifying.

VLADIMIR: What do they say? ESTRAGON: They talk about their lives. VLADIMIR: To have lived is not enough for them. ESTRAGON: They have to talk about it.