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?
SAMUEL BECKETTLove, 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?
SAMUEL BECKETTAll poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETTEver tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETTI am still alive then. That may come in useful.
SAMUEL BECKETTIn my head there are several windows, that I do know, but perhaps it is always the same one, open variously on the parading universe.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe essential doesn’t change.
SAMUEL BECKETTMy mistakes are my life.
SAMUEL BECKETTWhat do we do now, now that we are happy?
SAMUEL BECKETTLife is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETTI could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
SAMUEL BECKETTI have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
SAMUEL BECKETTBut I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
SAMUEL BECKETTNothing is more real than nothing.
SAMUEL BECKETTMemories 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.
SAMUEL BECKETTDo we mean love, when we say love?
SAMUEL BECKETT