William Empson Quotes

Waiting for the end, boys, waiting for the end.

Let's go." "We can't." "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.

I often think of death. True. Suicide is a reasonable option. True. My sins are unpardonable. I stare at the question. My sins are unpardonable. I stare at the question. My sins are unpardonable. I leave it blank.

She was waiting, but she didn't know for what. She was aware only of her solitude, and of the penetrating cold, and of a greater weight in the region of her heart.

It may all end tomorrow, or it could go on forever (in which case I'm doomed).

Death, only, renders hope futile.

I honestly feel it could all end tomorrow. Not just the band thing - I mean life.

I think theatre at its best looks into the dark corners; clearly, my dark corners are full of doom.

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

The desire to die was my one and only concern; to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.

Maybe Obama was not even the person he was waiting for.

Spending your days waiting to die is no way to live.

There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, so let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.

We live in a very scary time. Or should I say we don't live at all.

Life and hope must cease together.

Every time I wake, I understand how easy it is to be nothing.

When you look up. Do you see the blue sky of what might be? Or the darkness of what will never be? Do you see me?

And so you see I have come to doubt -All that I once held as true ~ I stand alone without beliefs -The only truth I know is you

Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse?

I can't even make a leap of faith to believe in my own existence.

I will never fully understand; that is the nature of such creatures. Or is this Inner Truth now, this that is happening to me? I will wait. I will see. Which it is. Perhaps it is both.

He who has waited long enough, will wait forever. And there comes the hour when nothing more can happen and nobody more can come and all is ended but the waiting that knows itself in vain.

The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.

Be still my tongue, for i know not what to say; My life is lived in darkness and here i will remain.