Quote

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

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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
Seems
Pits
Littles
Drag
Little
Phrases
Nothing
Rise
Whole
Speech
Real
Seem
Rest
Innocuous
Dark
Pollute

More quotes by Samuel Beckett

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And what I have, what I am, is enough, was always enough for me, and as far as my dear little sweet little future is concerned I have no qualms, I have a good time coming.
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What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come
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All has not been said and never will be.
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I say me, knowing all the while it's not me.
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That penny farthing hell you call your mind
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Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go.
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We are all born crazy. Some remain that way.
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What are we doing here, that is the question.
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Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
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Words fail, there are times when even they fail.
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The sky sinks in the morning, this fact has been insufficiently observed.
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You would do better, at least no worse, to obliterate texts than to blacken margins, to fill in the holes of words till all is blank and flat and the whole ghastly business looks like what it is, senseless, speechless, issueless misery.
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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.
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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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Mysterious affair, electricity.
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Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.
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All the things you would do gladly, oh without enthusiasm, but gladly, all the things there seems no reason for your not doing, and that you do not do! Can it be we are not free? It might be worth looking into.
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Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.
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[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.
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I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
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