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The human eyelid is not teartight (happily for the human eye).
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
Eyelids
Happily
Sorrow
Tears
Eye
Human
Humans
Eyelid
More quotes by Samuel Beckett
The bicycle is a great good. But it can turn nasty, if ill employed.
Samuel Beckett
The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
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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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The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue.
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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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Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world.
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The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day.
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There's never an end for the sea.
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Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.
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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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To find a form that accommodates the shape of the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
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Light black. From pole to pole.
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Yes, light, there is no other word for it.
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God is love. Yes or no? No.
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I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
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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.
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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.
Samuel Beckett
We should have thought of it when the world was young, in the nineties.
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What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.
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