Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I always thought old age would be a writer’s best chance. Whenever I read the late work of Goethe or W. B.… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“It was December, I had never felt so cold, the eel soup lay heavy on my stomach, I was afraid I'd die, I turned… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“You may say it is all in my head, and indeed sometimes it seems to me I am in a head and that these… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“Here he stood. Here he sat. Here he knelt. Here he lay. Here he moved, to and fro, from the door to the window,… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much? — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
The new light above my table is a great improvement. With all this darkness around me I feel less alone. (Pause.) In a way.… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
