Enough to know no knowing.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
Estragon: What about hanging ourselves? Vladimir: Hmm. It'd give us an erection.
Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.
But it seems impossible to speak and yet say nothing, you think you have succeeded, but you always overlook something.
And all these questions I ask myself. It is not in a spirit of curiosity. I cannot be silent. About myself I need know nothing. Here all is clear. No, all is not clear. But the discourse must go on. So one invents obscurities. Rhetoric.