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Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
Samuel Beckett
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Samuel Beckett
Age: 83 †
Born: 1906
Born: April 13
Died: 1989
Died: December 22
Artist
Author
Cricketer
Film Director
French Resistance Fighter
Intellectual
Linguist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Teacher
Dublin city
Samuel Barclay Beckett
Andrew Belis
Sam Beckett
Sa-miao-erh Pei-kʻo-tʻe
Samuel Beḳeṭ
University
Rich
Funny
Dublin
Hilarious
Contains
Ireland
Cream
Thick
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue.
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Love requited is a short circuit.
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Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
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If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.
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The short winter’s day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out.
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We all are born mad. Some remain so.
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I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.
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That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
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The Tuesday scowls, the Wednesday growls, the Thursday curses, the Friday howls, the Saturday snores, the Sunday yawns, the Monday morns, the Monday morns. The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps, and the yelps.
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Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
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To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
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What are we doing here, that is the question.
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Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
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Clear to me at last that the dark I have always struggled to keep under is in reality my most
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Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards.
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But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.
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Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.
Samuel Beckett
Yes, light, there is no other word for it.
Samuel Beckett
All the things you would do gladly, oh without enthusiasm, but gladly, all the things there seems no reason for your not doing, and that you do not do! Can it be we are not free? It might be worth looking into.
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Yes, there is no denying it, any longer, it is not you who are dead, but all the others. So you get up and go to your mother, who thinks she is alive. That's my impression. But now I shall have to get myself out of this ditch. How joyfully I would vanish here, sinking deeper and deeper under the rains.
Samuel Beckett