Fail, fail again, fail better.

What kind of country is this where a woman can't weep her heart out on the highways and byways without being tormented by retired bill-brokers!

I did not want to write, but I had to resign myself to it in the end.

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

Over, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.

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

No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.