The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
This is the opening sentence of Murphy, Beckett’s first published novel, set in London. The line plays on the biblical phrase “there is no new thing under the sun”.
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
Nothing to be done.
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
A house divided against itself cannot stand.
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, / The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.