Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETTLife is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe day you die is just like any other, only shorter.
SAMUEL BECKETTFor in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.
SAMUEL BECKETTI use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
SAMUEL BECKETTNothing is more real than nothing.
SAMUEL BECKETTBirth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETTWords are the clothes thoughts wear.
SAMUEL BECKETTPeople are bloody ignorant apes.
SAMUEL BECKETTAll poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETTReality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
SAMUEL BECKETTYes, in my life, since we must call it so, there were three things, the inability to speak, the inability to be silent, and solitude, that’s what I’ve had to make the best of.
SAMUEL BECKETTFriendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
SAMUEL BECKETTGo on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETTThen 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 BECKETTThe old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust.
SAMUEL BECKETT