Samuel Beckett Quotes
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My appearance still made people laugh, with that hearty jovial laugh so good for the health.
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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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No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
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They were most correct, according to their god.
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In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
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Hamm: Can there be misery (he yawns) loftier than mine?
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To contrive a little kingdom, in the midst of the universal muck, then shit on it, ah that was me all over.
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Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
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Clov: When I fall I'll weep for happiness.
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Bid us sigh on from day to day,And wish and wish the soul away,Till youth and genial years are flown,And all the life of life is gone.
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How tell what remains ? But it’s the end. Or have I been dreaming, am I dreaming? No no, none of that, for dream is nothing, a joke, and significant what is worse.
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I didn’t feel well, but they told me I was well enough. They didn’t say in so many words that I was as well as I would ever be, but that was the implication.
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I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
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Normally I didn’t see a great deal. I didn’t hear a great deal either. I didn’t pay attention. Strictly speaking I wasn’t there. Strictly speaking I believe I’ve never been anywhere.
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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.
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I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
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Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
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It is right that he too should have his little chronicle, his memories, his reason, and be able to recognize the good in the bad, the bad in the worst, and so grow gently old down all the unchanging days, and die one day like any other day, only shorter.
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To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
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What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
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I get up, go out, and everything is changed. The blood drains from my head, the noise of things bursting, merging, avoiding one another, assails me on all sides, my eyes search in vain for two things alike, each pinpoint of skin screams a different message, I drown in the spray of phenomena.
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It means what it says.
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I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.