Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
To have been always what I am - and so changed from what I was.
Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
Do you always believe in the life to come? Mine was always that.
If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.
If by Godot I had meant God I would have said God, and not Godot.
Ah, the old questions, the old answers, there's nothing like them!
To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day?
Don't touch me! Don't question me! Don't speak to me! Stay with me!
There's something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end.
The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.
There is at least this to be said for mind, that it can dispel mind.
I did not want to write, but I had to resign myself to it in the end.
What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.
An imaginative adventure does not enjoy the same corsets as reportage.
We should have thought of it when the world was young, in the nineties.
There is man in his entirety, blaming his shoe when his foot is guilty.
I cannot explain my plays. Each must find out for himself what is meant
Our vulgar perception is not concerned with other than vulgar phenomena.
James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.
Watt had watched people smile and thought he understood how it was done.
I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.
Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
The sky sinks in the morning, this fact has been insufficiently observed.
There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.
POZZO: I am blind. (Silence.) ESTRAGON: Perhaps he can see into the future.
The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust
There is no use indicting words, they are no shoddier than what they peddle.
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.
We could have saved sixpence. We could have saved fivepence. But at what cost?
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.
That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly.
Estragon: What about hanging ourselves? Vladimir: Hmm. It'd give us an erection.
If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.
Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go.
In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg. Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?
Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.
Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.
We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?