I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
SAMUEL BECKETTI pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
SAMUEL BECKETTWords 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 BECKETTEvery word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
SAMUEL BECKETTAll has not been said and never will be.
SAMUEL BECKETTThat desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe whisky bears a grudge against the decanter.
SAMUEL BECKETTAll life long, the same questions, the same answers.
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 BECKETTBetter hope deferred than none.
SAMUEL BECKETTI could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
SAMUEL BECKETTIf you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.
SAMUEL BECKETTThe old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust.
SAMUEL BECKETTHabit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.
SAMUEL BECKETTThere’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
SAMUEL BECKETTYou’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.
SAMUEL BECKETTPeople are bloody ignorant apes.
SAMUEL BECKETT