Waiting for Godot

by Samuel Beckett

There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.

Remark that I might just as well have been in his shoes and he in mine. If chance had not willed otherwise. To each one his due.

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.

But let us persevere in what we have resolved, before we forget.