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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
Philosopher
Intelligence
Poet
Humanity
Sense
Philosophers
Poets
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Estragon: I can't go on like this. Vladimir: That's what you think.
Samuel Beckett
Estragon: Nothing to be done.
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I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
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Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.
Samuel Beckett
Our vulgar perception is not concerned with other than vulgar phenomena.
Samuel Beckett
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
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Light black. From pole to pole.
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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
If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.
Samuel Beckett
Words are all we have.
Samuel Beckett
I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.
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I knew it would soon be the end, so I played the part, you know, the part of — how shall I say, I don’t know.
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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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That penny farthing hell you call your mind
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For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.
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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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I know those little phrases that seem so innocuous, and, once you let them in, pollute the whole of speech. 'Nothing is more real than nothing.' They rise up out of the pit and know no rest until they drag you down into its dark.
Samuel Beckett
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.
Samuel Beckett
You are not satisfied unless form is so strictly divorced from content that you can comprehend the one without almost without bothering to read the other.
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In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg. Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?
Samuel Beckett
