Samuel Beckett Quotes

Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

Love, that is all I asked, a little love, daily, twice daily, fifty years of twice daily love like a Paris horse-butcher’s regular, what normal woman wants affection?

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.

To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.

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.

All has not been said and never will be.

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.