I have nothing but wastes and wilds of self-translation before me for many miserable months to come. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
You are not satisfied unless form is so strictly divorced from content that you can comprehend the one without almost without bothering… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
The situation is that of him who is helpless, cannot act, in the event cannot paint, since he is obliged to paint.… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
The time is perhaps not altogether too green for the vile suggestion that art has nothing to do with clarity, does not… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
My work is a matter of fundamental sounds (no joke intended) made as fully as possible, and I accept responsibility for nothing… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
Art has always been this--pure interrogation, rhetorical question less the rhetoric--whatever else it may have been obliged by social reality to appear. — 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
