(Looking at the tree) Pity we haven’t got a bit of rope.
There is no use indicting words, they are no shoddier than what they peddle.
Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
Vladimir, be reasonable, you haven’t yet tried everything. And I resumed the struggle.
CLOV:Do you believe in the life to come?HAMM:Mine was always that.
To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
Estragon: They’re too bigVladimir: Perhaps you’ll have socks some day
Lo que hay que evitar, no sé por qué, es el espíritu de sistema.