What Do We Do Now, Now That

Estragon: Nothing To Be Done.

The End Is In The Beginning And Yet You Go On.

Over, Over, There Is A Soft Place In My Heart For All That Is Over, No, For The Being Over, Words Have Been My Only Loves, Not Many.

It Is Right That He Too Should Have His Little Chronicle, His Memories, His Reason, And Be Able To Recognize The Good In The Bad, The Bad In The Worst, And So Grow Gently Old Down All The Unchanging Days, And Die One Day Like Any Other Day, Only Shorter.

Yes, There Were Times When I Forgot Not Only Who I Was But That I Was, Forgot To Be.