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Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
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
Poets
Philosopher
Intelligence
Poet
Humanity
Sense
Philosophers
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Birth was the death of him.
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To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
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The sky sinks in the morning, this fact has been insufficiently observed.
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The only sin is the sin of being born.
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There is no use indicting words, they are no shoddier than what they peddle.
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My notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record.
Samuel Beckett
Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
Samuel Beckett
All has not been said and never will be.
Samuel Beckett
I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
Samuel Beckett
To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail, that failure is his world and the shrink from desertion, art and craft, good housekeeping, living.
Samuel Beckett
Sloth is all passions the most powerful.
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Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.
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It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and then the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it.
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To him who has nothing it is forbidden not to relish filth.
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That penny farthing hell you call your mind
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Hardly had the glow been kindled by some good deed on your part or by some little triumph over your rivals or by a word of praisefrom your parents or mentors when it would begin to cool and fade leaving you in a very short time as chill and dim as before.
Samuel Beckett
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
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.
Samuel Beckett
An imaginative adventure does not enjoy the same corsets as reportage.
Samuel Beckett
The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
Samuel Beckett
