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Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.
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
Anything
Must
Decidedly
Never
Greedy
Finish
Breathing
Except
Perhaps
Given
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
Samuel Beckett
But it seems impossible to speak and yet say nothing, you think you have succeeded, but you always overlook something.
Samuel Beckett
To have been always what I am - and so changed from what I was.
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There is no escape from yesterday because yesterday has deformed us, or been deformed by us. The mood is of no importance. Deformation has taken place.
Samuel Beckett
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
Samuel Beckett
Two in distressmake sorrow less.
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
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
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.
Samuel Beckett
But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.
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The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
Samuel Beckett
Yes, light, there is no other word for it.
Samuel Beckett
Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards.
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God is love. Yes or no? No.
Samuel Beckett
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
Samuel Beckett
I had seen faces in photographs I might have found beautiful had I known even vaguely in what beauty was supposed to consist. And my father's face, on his death-bolster, had seemed to hint at some form of aesthetics relevant to man. But the faces of the living, all grimace and flush, can they be described as objects?
Samuel Beckett
What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
Samuel Beckett
How hideous is the semicolon.
Samuel Beckett
To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
Samuel Beckett
What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.
Samuel Beckett
