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The only sin is the sin of being born.
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
Sin
Born
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Sloth is all passions the most powerful.
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No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
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In my head there are several windows, that I do know, but perhaps it is always the same one, open variously on the parading universe.
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There is this to be said for Dachsunds of such length and lowness as Nelly, that it makes very little difference to their appearance whether they stand, sit or lie.
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Dying for dark — and the darker the Worse. Strange.
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Do we mean love, when we say love?
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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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Estragon: I can't go on like this. Vladimir: That's what you think.
Samuel Beckett
But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!
Samuel Beckett
That penny farthing hell you call your mind
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Nothing is more real than nothing.
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To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
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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.
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Watt had watched people smile and thought he understood how it was done.
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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!
Samuel Beckett
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Samuel Beckett
There's something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
Samuel Beckett
The situation is that of him who is helpless, cannot act, in the event cannot paint, since he is obliged to paint. The act is of him who, helpless, unable to act, acts, in the event paints, since he is obliged to paint.
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Over, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.
Samuel Beckett
Estragon: Nothing to be done.
Samuel Beckett
