Tuesday, April 13, 2004
And speaking of matters literary, today is Samuel Beckett's birthday. Makes me want to have a Guinness and mumble about blankness and blackness.
Vladimir: That passed the time.
Estragon: It would have passed in any case.
Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.
Vladimir: That passed the time.
Estragon: It would have passed in any case.
Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.
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