To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
SAMUEL BECKETTIf I was dead, I wouldn’t know I was dead. That’s the only thing I have against death. I want to enjoy my death.
More Samuel Beckett Quotes
-
-
I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
I gave up before birth.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
There’s never an end for the sea.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Nothing is more real than nothing.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
The whisky bears a grudge against the decanter.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
We are all born crazy. Some remain that way.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
All has not been said and never will be.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Sometimes I wonder if I’m in my right mind. Then it passes off and I’m as intelligent as ever.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Better hope deferred than none.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
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 -
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
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 -
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Do we mean love, when we say love?
SAMUEL BECKETT -
All life long, the same questions, the same answers.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear
SAMUEL BECKETT -
What do I know of man’s destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
There is no escape from yesterday because yesterday has deformed us, or been deformed by us. The mood is of no importance. Deformation has taken place.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Birth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETT -
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETT