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It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

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
Longed
Horrible
Effect
Effects
Since
Anything
Long

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No painting is more replete than Mondrian's.
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To him who has nothing it is forbidden not to relish filth.
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I gave up before birth.
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My work is a matter of fundamental sounds (no joke intended) made as fully as possible, and I accept responsibility for nothing else. If people want to have headaches among the overtones, let them. And provide their own aspirin.
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Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.
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But it seems impossible to speak and yet say nothing, you think you have succeeded, but you always overlook something.
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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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VLADIMIR: What do they say? ESTRAGON: They talk about their lives. VLADIMIR: To have lived is not enough for them. ESTRAGON: They have to talk about it.
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We should have thought of it when the world was young, in the nineties.
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I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
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Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order.
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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.
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We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
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James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.
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Ah, the old questions, the old answers, there's nothing like them!
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Mysterious affair, electricity.
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Nothing is more real than nothing.
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Dying for dark — and the darker the Worse. Strange.
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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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The short winter’s day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out.
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