Estragon: Suppose We Repented. Vladimir: Repented What?

Don’t Wait To Be Hunted To Hide, That Was Always My Motto.

Habit Is A Compromise Effected Between An Individual And His Environment.

I Had Seen Faces In Photographs I Might Have Found Beautiful Had I Known Even Vaguely In What Beauty Was Supposed To Consist. And My Father's Face, On His Death-bolster, Had Seemed To Hint At Some Form Of Aesthetics Relevant To Man. But The Faces Of The Living, All Grimace And Flush, Can They Be Described As Objects?

If You Don't Know Where You Are Currently Standing, You're Dead.

I Marshalled The Words And Opened My Mouth, Thinking I Would Hear Them. But All I Heard Was A Kind Of Rattle, Unintelligible Even To Me Who Knew What Was Intended.