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I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.
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
Eye
Nothing
Unceasingly
Self
Introspection
Pour
Torn
Tears
Open
Eyes
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
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To find a form that accommodates the shape of the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
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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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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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The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
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Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
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It was the only way to progress, to stop.
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They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
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It is better to adopt the simplest explanation, even if it is not simple, even if it does not explain very much. A bright light is not necessary, a taper is all one needs to live in strangeness, if it faithfully burns.
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The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.
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Yes, I dont know why, but I have never been disappointed, and I often was in the early days, without feeling at the same time, or a moment later, an undeniable relief.
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Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
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I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.
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Estragon: I can't go on like this. Vladimir: That's what you think.
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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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To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day?
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I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.
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Ah, the old questions, the old answers, there's nothing like them!
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How do you manage it, she said, at your age? I told her I'd been saving up for her all my life.
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Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.
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