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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.
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
Perhaps
Head
Open
Universe
Parading
Always
Variously
Windows
Several
Window
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
There's never an end for the sea.
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For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.
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What is this love that more than all the cursed deadly or any other of its great movers so moves the soul and soul what is this soul that more than by any of its great movers is by love so moved?
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Clear to me at last that the dark I have always struggled to keep under is in reality my most
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And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept.
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If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.
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Birth was the death of him.
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What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
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Sloth is all passions the most powerful.
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We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's get to work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone more, in the midst of nothingness!
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Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
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Estragon: I can't go on like this. Vladimir: That's what you think.
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The human eyelid is not teartight (happily for the human eye).
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I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.
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Suffering is the main condition of the artistic experience.
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I don't know why I told this story. I could just as well have told another. Perhaps some other time I'll be able to tell another. Living souls, you will see how alike they are.
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Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.
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Nothing is more real than nothing.
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James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.
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God is love. Yes or no? No.
Samuel Beckett
