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Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
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
Environment
Individual
Effected
Compromise
Habit
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I don’t like animals. It’s a strange thing, I don’t like men and I don’t like animals. As for God, he is beginning to disgust me.
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The short winter’s day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out.
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To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
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There's something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
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We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
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Let's go. We can't. Why not? We're waiting for Godot.
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The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
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Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
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How hideous is the semicolon.
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But it seems impossible to speak and yet say nothing, you think you have succeeded, but you always overlook something.
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Light black. From pole to pole.
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I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
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If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
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We always find something, eh Didi, to let us think we exist?
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