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We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

Samuel Beckett

I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Kind Mouth Myself Open Thinking Word
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
But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Death Live Myself
The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Greatness Machine Ourselves Time
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

Destruction Escape Important Past Place
There’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Head Heart Myself
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Cry Dead Greatness Growth Habit Old Time
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Artist Mess Task Work
Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Friendship Human Solitude
You won’t believe what you can accomplish by attempting the impossible with the courage to repeatedly fail better.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Accomplishment Attempt Believe Better Failure Impossible Repeat
Birth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Death Deep Himself One Liner
I gave up before birth.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Give Up Myself
Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Forget Myself Time
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
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Desert Lonely Love Man
Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Best Chance Fire Happiness Myself

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

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We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

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Popular Authors

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