Words Fail, There Are Times When Even

You Would Do Better, At Least No Worse, To Obliterate Texts Than To Blacken Margins, To Fill In The Holes Of Words Till All Is Blank And Flat And The Whole Ghastly Business Looks Like What It Is, Senseless, Speechless, Issueless Misery.

The Dust Will Not Settle In Our Time. And When It Does Some Great Roaring Machine Will Come And Whirl It All Skyhigh Again.

Hamm: We're Not Beginning To... To... Mean Something? Clov: Mean Something! You And I, Mean Something! (brief Laugh.) Ah That's A Good One!

The Tears Of The World Are A Constant Quantity. For Each One Who Begins To Weep Somewhere Else Another Stops. The Same Is True Of The Laugh. Let Us Not Then Speak Ill Of Our Generation, It Is Not Any Unhappier Than Its Predecessors. Let Us Not Speak Well Of It Either. Let Us Not Speak Of It At All. It Is True The Population Has Increased.

What Do I Know Of Man's Destiny? I Could Tell You More About Radishes.