Waiting for Godot

Instead of commenting on each book/play/poem I’m reading, I’m going to be posting just the titles with my favorite quotes… Here’s the first: yesterday, I read Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.

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.


ESTRAGON: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

VLADIMIR: Yes, yes, we’re magicians.


VLADIMIR: I missed you . . . and at the same time I was happy. Isn’t that a strange thing?

ESTRAGON: (shocked). Happy?

VLADIMIR: Perhaps it’s not quite the right word.

ESTRAGON: And now?

VLADIMIR:Now? . . . (Joyous.) There you are again . . . (Indifferent.) There we are again. . . (Gloomy.) There I am again.


VLADIMIR: There’s nothing we can do.

ESTRAGON: But I can’t go on like this!

VLADIMIR: Would you like a radish?

ESTRAGON: Is that all there is?

VLADIMIR: There are radishes and turnips.

ESTRAGON: Are there no carrots?

VLADIMIR: No. Anyway you overdo it with your carrots.

ESTRAGON: Then give me a radish. (Vladimir fumbles in his pockets, finds nothing but turnips, finally brings out a radish and hands it to Estragon who examines it, sniffs it.) It’s black!

VLADIMIR: It’s a radish.

ESTRAGON: I only like the pink ones, you know that!

VLADIMIR: Then you don’t want it?

ESTRAGON: I only like the pink ones!

VLADIMIR: Then give it back to me.

Estragon gives it back.

ESTRAGON: I’ll go and get a carrot.

He does not move.

VLADIMIR:This is becoming really insignificant.

ESTRAGON:Not enough.

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