black
grey
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Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

Samuel Beckett

That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Desert Lonely Love Man
There’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Head Heart Myself
Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Imagination Reality Surface
But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Death Live Myself
But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
SAMUEL BECKETT

End Greatness Light Myself Patience Shadow Shine
Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear
SAMUEL BECKETT

Art Clarity Clear
Do we mean love, when we say love?
SAMUEL BECKETT

Deep Love Meaning One Liner
To have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Change Myself Transformation
The whisky bears a grudge against the decanter.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Alcohol Grudge Whiskey
Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.
SAMUEL BECKETT

End Thankful Yourself
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Discrimination Poetry Prayer
You’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Cure Earth One Liner
I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Meaning Myself Silence Teaching Word Yourself
If you don’t know where you are currently standing, you’re dead.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Current Death Stand Yourself
Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Habit Life Perspective
To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Death Forget Man

Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

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Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Samuel Beckett Quotes