black
grey
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Do we mean love, when we say love?

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

Destruction Escape Important Past Place
Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear
SAMUEL BECKETT

Art Clarity Clear
Birth was the death of him.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Born Death Deep Himself One Liner
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
To restore silence is the role of objects.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Object Restore Role Silence
All has not been said and never will be.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Talk Voice Word
I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Feeling Myself Record
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
If 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.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Death Enjoyment Myself
The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Day Death Normal Short Yourself
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
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Artist Mess Task Work
He who has waited long enough, will wait forever. And there comes the hour when nothing more can happen and nobody more can come and all is ended but the waiting that knows itself in vain.
SAMUEL BECKETT

End Enough Forever Wait Wasted Time
The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Disgust Love Old Tolerance
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
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
SAMUEL BECKETT

Desert Lonely Love Man

Do we mean love, when we say love?

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Do we mean love, when we say love?

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