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Hold the old holding hand. Hold and be held. Plod on and never recede. Slowly with never a pause plod on and never recede.

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
Holding
Held
Hold
Hand
Plod
Hands
Recede
Never
Pause
Pauses
Slowly

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All that is active, all that is enveloped in time and space, is endowed with what might be described as an abstract, ideal and absolute impermeability.
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The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.
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Better hope deferred than none.
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I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.
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Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.
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Do we mean love, when we say love?
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We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's get to work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone more, in the midst of nothingness!
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My work is a matter of fundamental sounds (no joke intended) made as fully as possible, and I accept responsibility for nothing else. If people want to have headaches among the overtones, let them. And provide their own aspirin.
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I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
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Sometimes I wonder if I'm in my right mind. Then it passes off and I'm as intelligent as ever.
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I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.
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How long have I been here, what a question, I've often wondered. And often I could answer, An hour, a month, a year, a century, depending on what I meant by here, and me, and being, and there I never went looking for extravagant meanings, there I never much varied, only the here would sometimes seem to vary.
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If by Godot I had meant God I would have said God, and not Godot.
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Estragon: I can't go on like this. Vladimir: That's what you think.
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Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
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I am such a good man, at bottom, such a good man, how is it that nobody ever noticed it?
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I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
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Yes, light, there is no other word for it.
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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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