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Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear
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
Doe
Nothing
Make
Dabble
Clarity
Clear
Art
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
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
My keepers, why keepers, I'm in no danger of stirring an inch, ah I see, it's to make me think I'm a prisoner, frantic with corporeality, rearing to get out and away.
Samuel Beckett
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
God is love. Yes or no? No.
Samuel Beckett
in reality we are one and all from the unthinkable first to the no less unthinkable last glued together in a vast imbrication of flesh without breach or fissure
Samuel Beckett
Better hope deferred than none.
Samuel Beckett
We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?
Samuel Beckett
Enough of acting the infant who has been told so often how he was found under a cabbage that in the end he remembers the exact spot in the garden and the kind of life he led there before joining the family circle.
Samuel Beckett
HAMM: We're not beginning to... to... mean something? CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.) Ah that's a good one!
Samuel Beckett
No painting is more replete than Mondrian's.
Samuel Beckett
Clear to me at last that the dark I have always struggled to keep under is in reality my most
Samuel Beckett
There is no use indicting words, they are no shoddier than what they peddle.
Samuel Beckett
The memory came faint and cold of the story I might have told, a story in the likeness of my life, I mean without the courage to end or the strength to go on.
Samuel Beckett
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
Samuel Beckett
I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.
Samuel Beckett
I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.
Samuel Beckett
Deplorable mania, when something happens, to inquire what.
Samuel Beckett
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
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.
Samuel Beckett
My notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record.
Samuel Beckett
