Guildenstern: We only know what we’re told, and that’s little enough. And for all we know it isn’t even true.
Player: For all anyone knows, nothing is. Everything has to be taken on trust; truth is only that which is taken to be true. It’s the currency of living. There may be nothing behind it, but it doesn’t make any difference so long as it is honoured. One acts on assumptions. What do you assume?

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More from Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead

Inside where nothing shows, I am the essence of a man spinning double-headed coins, and betting against himself in private atonement for an unremembered past.

By this time tomorrow we might have forgotten everything we ever knew. That’s a thought, isn’t it? We’d be right back where we started – improvising.

Now for a handful of guilders I happen to have a private and uncut performance of the rape of the Sabine Women – or rather woman, or rather Alfred -Get your skirt on Alfred!

We do on stage the things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit being an entrance somewhere else.

All your life you live so close to the truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye, and when something nudges it into outline it is like being ambushed by a grotesque.