But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.

Let's go." "We can't." "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.

What is that unforgettable line?

What do we do now, now that we are happy?

Imagination at wit's end spreads its sad wings.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

Two in distressmake sorrow less.