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Nothing is more real than nothing.

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One Liner Reality

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

I am still alive then. That may come in useful.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Alive Help Myself Worth
Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Habit Life Perspective
I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Kind Mouth Myself Open Thinking Word
Dance first. Think later. It’s the natural order.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Dance Natural Order Thinking
There’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Head Heart Myself
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Discrimination Poetry Prayer
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Better Failure Inspirational Repeat Try
I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Change Mistake Myself
If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Love Myself Relationship Yourself
We are all born crazy. Some remain that way.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Crazy Remain
The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Beginning End Philosophy Wisdom
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Artist Mess Task Work
But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!
SAMUEL BECKETT

Moments Place Time
You’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Cure Earth One Liner
I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Hard Time Mess Myself Silence Stain
Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Home Myself Rain Window Writing

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