We Are Not Saints, But We Have

Estragon: We Always Find Something, Eh Didi, To Give Us The Impression We Exist? Vladimir: Yes, Yes, We're Magicians.

I Speak For An Art ... Weary Of Its Puny Exploits, Weary Of Pretending To Be Able, Of Being Able, Of Doing A Little Better The Same Old Thing, Of Going A Little Further Along A Dreary Road.

Birth Was The Death Of Him.

Try Again. Fail Again. Try Better.

It's A Rare Thing Not To Have Been Bonny-- Once.