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James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.
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
Joyce
James
Writing
Thing
Something
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and then the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it.
Samuel Beckett
Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.
Samuel Beckett
I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.
Samuel Beckett
I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.
Samuel Beckett
We all are born mad. Some remain so.
Samuel Beckett
Women are all the bloody sameyou can't love for five minutes without wanting it abolished in brats and house bloody wifery.
Samuel Beckett
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
Let's go. We can't. Why not? We're waiting for Godot.
Samuel Beckett
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.
Samuel Beckett
It was the only way to progress, to stop.
Samuel Beckett
No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
Samuel Beckett
Love requited is a short circuit.
Samuel Beckett
I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
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
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
Samuel Beckett
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
Samuel Beckett
Dying for dark — and the darker the Worse. Strange.
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
James Joyce was a synthesizer, trying to bring in as much as he could. I am an analyzer, trying to leave out as much as I can.
Samuel Beckett
Yes, light, there is no other word for it.
Samuel Beckett
