black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Nothing is more real than nothing.

Samuel Beckett

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

Dreams Effect Horrible Myself
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 BECKETT

Affection Love Myself Normal Woman
Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Dog Habit Himself
Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.
SAMUEL BECKETT

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

Forget Myself Time
The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Beginning End Philosophy Wisdom
But 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 BECKETT

End Greatness Light Myself Patience Shadow Shine
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
Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.
SAMUEL BECKETT

End Fly Greatness Head Image Myself Pursue Trouble Word
Nothing is more real than nothing.
SAMUEL BECKETT

One Liner Reality
What do we do now, now that we are happy?
SAMUEL BECKETT

Happiness Unknown
Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.
SAMUEL BECKETT

End Thankful Yourself
Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Humanity Intelligence Philosophy Poet
I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Conversation Myself Polite Try
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

Nothing is more real than nothing.

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Nothing is more real than nothing.

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