The fact is, it seems, that the most you can hope is to be a little less, in the end, the creature you were in the beginning, and the middle.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again.

Even death is unreliable: instead of zero it may be some ghastly hallucination, such as the square root of minus one.

Habit is a great deadener.

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.

VLADIMIR : That passed the time.

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful!

ESTRAGON : Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let’s go.

One of the thieves was saved. (Pause) It’s a reasonable percentage.

Nothing to be done.