لم نولد لنكون على الطريق نفسه.
Samuel BeckettWe have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
Samuel BeckettEstragon: Hepimiz deli doğarız. Bazılarımız öyle kalır.
Samuel BeckettBirth was the death of him.
Samuel BeckettTags: humour
I was merely cursing, under my breath, God and man, under my breath, and the wet Saturday afternoon of my conception.
Samuel BeckettTags: inspirational-quotes
It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and then the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it.
Samuel BeckettBloom of adulthood. Try a whiff of that. On your back in the dark you remember. Ah you remember. Cloudless May day. She joins you in the little summerhouse. Entirely of logs. Both larch and fir. Six feet across. Eight from floor to vertex. Area twenty-four square feet to the furthest decimal. Two small multicoloured lights vis-a-vis. Small stained diamond panes. Under each a ledge. There on summer Sundays after his midday meal your father loved to retreat with Punch and a cushion. The waist of his trousers unbuttoned he sat on the one ledge and turned the pages. You on the other your feet dangling. When he chuckled you tried to chuckle too. When his chuckle died yours too. That you should try to imitate his chuckle pleased and amused him greatly and sometimes he would chuckle for no other reason than to hear you try to chuckle too. Sometimes you turn your head and look out through a rose-red pane. You press your little nose against the pane and all without is rosy. The years have flown and there at the same place as then you sit in the bloom of adulthood bathed in rainbow light gazing before you. She is late.
Samuel BeckettTags: childhood adulthood relentlessness
But I did not yet know, at that time, how tender the earth can be for those who have only her and how many graves in her giving, for the living."
First Love
I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.
Samuel BeckettTags: true-to-myself
There are two moments worthwhile in writing, the one when you start and the other when you throw it in the waste-paper basket.
Samuel BeckettTags: writing-advice writing-philosophy composition
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