I did not want to write, but I had to resign myself to it in the end. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“drill one hole after another into [language] until that which lurks behind, be it something or nothing, starts seeping through – I… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“And yet sometimes it seems to me I am there, among the incriminated scenes, tottering under the attributes peculiar to the lords… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously, nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
Success and failure on the public level never mattered much to me, in fact I feel more at home with the latter,… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
“It is to be hoped the time will come, thank God, in some circles it already has, when language is best used… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile... a stain upon the silence. — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I,… — 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
My dear Tom, Delighted to get your letter. Do write again. This life is terrible and I don't understand how it can… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
I've tried not to exaggerate the glory of athletes. I'd rather, if I could, preserve a sense of proportion, to write about… — Samuel Beckett Copy Share Image
There are two moments worthwhile in writing, the one when you start and the other when you throw it in the waste-paper… — 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
