Samuel Beckett Quotes
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To him who has nothing it is forbidden not to relish filth.
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James Joyce was a synthesizer, trying to bring in as much as he could. I am an analyzer, trying to leave out as much as I can.
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If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.
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The expression that there is nothing to express, nothing with which to express, nothing from which to express, no power to express, no desire to express, together with the obligation to express.
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To restore silence is the role of objects.
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Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.
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Nothing is more real than nothing.
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Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
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Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.
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They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
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The tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? From time to time. There is nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain.
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Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world.
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The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
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We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?
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Krapp: Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now.
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Birth was the death of him.
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My appearance still made people laugh, with that hearty jovial laugh so good for the health.
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Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.
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Bah, the latest news, the latest news is not the last.
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You're on earth. There's no cure for that.
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If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
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All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.
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I think the next little bit of excitement is flying. I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously, nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial pilot. I do not feel like spending the rest of my life writing books that no one will read. It is not as though I wanted to write them.
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Do we mean love, when we say love?