We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
SAMUEL BECKETTAll poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
More Samuel Beckett Quotes
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If you don’t know where you are currently standing, you’re dead.
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The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.
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Words are the clothes thoughts wear.
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Sometimes I wonder if I’m in my right mind. Then it passes off and I’m as intelligent as ever.
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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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All has not been said and never will be.
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Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
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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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That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
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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. No, I wouldn’t want them back.
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The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.
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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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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.
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The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
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You won’t believe what you can accomplish by attempting the impossible with the courage to repeatedly fail better.
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To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
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Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
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I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
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I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.
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Birth was the death of him.
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Dance first. Think later. It’s the natural order.
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In my head there are several windows, that I do know, but perhaps it is always the same one, open variously on the parading universe.
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The essential doesn’t change.
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We are all born crazy. Some remain that way.
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Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.
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Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
SAMUEL BECKETT