Light Black. From Pole To

There Is Man In His Entirety, Blaming His Shoe When His Foot Is Guilty.

Hold The Old Holding Hand. Hold And Be Held. Plod On And Never Recede. Slowly With Never A Pause Plod On And Never Recede.

We Always Find Something, Eh Didi, To Let Us Think We Exist?

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!

In The Landscape Of Extinction, Precision Is Next To Godliness.