To have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.

Samuel Beckett

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

Conversation Myself Polite Try
What do I know of man’s destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Destiny Fate Man Myself
Birth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Death Deep Himself One Liner
In 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 BECKETT

Head Myself Universe Window
The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Disgust Love Old Tolerance
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
What are we doing here, that is the question.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Action Life Question Spiritual
The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Day Death Normal Short Yourself
For 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 BECKETT

Better Fools Horrible Imagination Life Stay
You’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Cure Earth One Liner
Words are the clothes thoughts wear.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Clothes Thinking Word
All life long, the same questions, the same answers.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Answer Life Long Question
The whisky bears a grudge against the decanter.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Alcohol Grudge Whiskey
The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Creation Place Time World
To restore silence is the role of objects.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Object Restore Role Silence
Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Blind Eyes Fools See
All has not been said and never will be.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Talk Voice Word
To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Death Forget Man
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Desert Lonely Love Man
Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Habit Life Perspective
I am still alive then. That may come in useful.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Alive Help Myself Worth
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Discrimination Poetry Prayer
Memories 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 BECKETT

Dangerous Kill Memories Mindset Thinking Yourself
Better hope deferred than none.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Better Choice Hope
Yes, 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 BECKETT

Ability Best Life Myself Silence Talk
Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Dog Habit Himself
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

To have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.

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To have been always what I am – and so changed from what I was.

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