Do we mean love, when we say love?
SAMUEL BECKETTDo we mean love, when we say love?
SAMUEL BECKETTFriendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
SAMUEL BECKETTIt was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.
SAMUEL BECKETTBirth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETTFail, fail again, fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETTBetter hope deferred than none.
SAMUEL BECKETTPerhaps 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.
SAMUEL BECKETTI tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
SAMUEL BECKETTI 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 BECKETTHabit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.
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 day you die is just like any other, only shorter.
SAMUEL BECKETTAll mankind is us, whether we like it or not.
SAMUEL BECKETTTo have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.
SAMUEL BECKETTSometimes I wonder if I’m in my right mind. Then it passes off and I’m as intelligent as ever.
SAMUEL BECKETT