We Have Time To Grow Old. The

Personally I Have No Bone To Pick With Graveyards, I Take The Air There Willingly, Perhaps More Willingly Than Elsewhere, When Take The Air I Must.

Estragon: Nothing To Be Done.

And What I Have, What I Am, Is Enough, Was Always Enough For Me, And As Far As My Dear Little Sweet Little Future Is Concerned I Have No Qualms, I Have A Good Time Coming.

We All Are Born Mad. Some Remain So.

To Every Man His Little Cross. Till He Dies. And Is Forgotten.