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The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.
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
Great
Good
Cycling
Bicycle
Employed
Nasty
Ill
Turn
Turns
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Better hope deferred than none.
Samuel Beckett
Estragon: Nothing to be done.
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Make sense who may. I switch off.
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I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously, nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial pilot. I do not feel like spending the rest of my life writing books that no one will read. It is not as though I wanted to write them.
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They never lynch children, babies, no matter what they do they are whitewashed in advance.
Samuel Beckett
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
Not to want to say, not to know what you want to say, not to be able to say what you think you want to say, and never to stop saying, or hardly ever, that is the thing to keep in mind, even in the heat of composition.
Samuel Beckett
The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust
Samuel Beckett
What a joy to know where one is, and where one will stay, without being there. Nothing to do but stretch out comfortably on the rack, in the blissful knowledge you are nobody for all eternity. A pity I should have to give tongue at the same time, it prevents it from bleeding in peace, licking the lips.
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Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
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I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
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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.
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Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.
Samuel Beckett
The reality of the individualis an incoherent reality and must be expressed incoherently.
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What are we doing here, that is the question.
Samuel Beckett
Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
Samuel Beckett
Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.
Samuel Beckett
Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back.
Samuel Beckett
Do we mean love, when we say love?
Samuel Beckett
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
Samuel Beckett
