These Samuel Beckett quotes are here to uplift your mood. There are so many Samuel Beckett quotes that can help you when you are tired of being in the same old rut, and all you need is a little push, a little inspiration, a smile on the face, change of mood, bring you out of the banality of life, make you laugh a little, or may even make you cry a bit, and these Samuel Beckett quotes exists just do that.
Samuel Beckett was conceived in Dublin, Ireland, on April 13th in the year 1906, to working-class guardians, William and Mary Beckett. Mary Beckett was a dedicated spouse and mother, who went through great occasions with her two children in both preparing and interests. His dad shared his adoration for nature, angling, and golf with his youngsters. The two guardians were exacting and committed Protestants. Samuel Beckett was a brisk report, taking on the French language at age six. Samuel Beckett went to the Portora Royal live-in school in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, Ireland, where he kept on exceeding expectations in scholastics and turned into the light-heavyweight boxing champion. Samuel Beckett likewise contributed compositions to the school paper. His initial doodles were of poor person ladies, hoboes, and tramps. Schoolmasters frequently named him grouchy and pulled back. In the year 1923, Samuel Beckett entered Trinity College in Dublin to have some expertise in French and Italian.
His scholarly record was distinguished to the point that after getting his degree in the year 1927, Samuel Beckett was granted a two-year post as a lecturer associate in English at the École Normale Supérieure in Paris, France. In France, Samuel Beckett before long joined the casual gathering encompassing the Irish essayist James Joyce and was welcome to contribute the opening paper to protection and clarification of Joyce’s as yet incomplete Finnegans Wake in the year 1939. Samuel Beckett additionally moved in French abstract circles. During this first remain in Paris, Samuel Beckett won a prize for the best ballad regarding the matter of time. Whoroscope in the year 1930 was his first independently distributed work and denoted the start of his deep-rooted enthusiasm for the subject of time. Samuel Beckett came back to Dublin in the year 1930 to show French at Trinity College. During the year Samuel Beckett earned a Master of Arts degree. Following quite a long while of meandering through Europe composing short stories and ballads and being utilized at unspecialized temp jobs, he at last settled in Paris in the year 1937.
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“Don’t touch me! Don’t question me! Don’t speak to me! Stay with me!”
“The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.”
“That’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
“If you don’t know where you are currently standing, you’re dead.”
“I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.”
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
“Dance first. Think later. It’s the natural order.”
“All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
“You’re on Earth. There’s no cure for that.”
“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.”
“Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
“I can’t go on, I’ll go on.”
“Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
Vladimir: Yes, yes, we’re magicians.”
“Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.”
“The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.”
“My mistakes are my life.”
“Je suis comme ça. Ou j’oublie tout de suite ou je n’oublie jamais.”
“I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget. ”
“Vladimir: Did I ever leave you?
Estragon: You let me go.”
“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.”
“I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.”
“Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It’s awful.”
“The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said.”
“Let’s go.” “We can’t.” “Why not?” “We’re waiting for Godot.”
“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.”
“Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.”
“Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed. Others would meet the case equally well, if not better. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily for one the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflexion, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. 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 — ”
“There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.”
“Nothing is more real than nothing.”
“You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”
“ESTRAGON: I can’t go on like this.
VLADIMIR: That’s what you think.”
“Words are all we have.”
“The only sin is the sin of being born”
“Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.”
“Silence, yes, but what silence! For it is all very fine to keep silence, but one has also to consider the kind of silence one keeps.”
“We always find something, eh Didi, to let us think we exist?”
“There is man in his entirety, blaming his shoe when his foot is guilty.”
“The Tuesday scowls, the Wednesday growls, the Thursday curses, the Friday howls, the Saturday snores, the Sunday yawns, the Monday morns, the Monday morns. The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps, and the yelps.”
“Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear”
“I always thought old age would be a writer’s best chance. Whenever I read the late work of Goethe or W. B. Yeats I had the impertinence to identify with it. Now, my memory’s gone, all the old fluency’s disappeared. I don’t write a single sentence without saying to myself, ‘It’s a lie!’ So I know I was right. It’s the best chance I’ve ever had.”
“Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.”
“There’s no lack of void.”
“Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?”
“Words are the clothes thoughts wear.”
“We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.”
“The essential doesn’t change.”
“We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don’t protest, we are bored to death, there’s no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let’s get to work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we’ll be alone more, in the midst of nothingness!”
“If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.”
“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.”
“…you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on”
“there is […]
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love”
? Samuel Beckett, Cascando and Other Short Dramatic Pieces
tags: language, love 51 likes Like
“The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust”
“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.”
“HAMM: We’re not beginning to… to… mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something!
(Brief laugh.) Ah that’s a good one!”
“We spend our life, it’s ours, trying to bring together in the same instant a ray of sunshine and a free bench…”
“I’ve got my faults, but changing my tune isn’t one of them.”
“Use your head, can’t you, use your head, you’re on earth, there’s no cure for that!”
“When you’re in the shit up to your neck, there’s nothing left to do but sing.”
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love”
“All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.”
“VLADIMIR: What do they say?
ESTRAGON: They talk about their lives.
VLADIMIR: To have lived is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON: They have to talk about it.”
“No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.”
“Estragon: I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.”
“Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It’s abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we’ll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.”
“What is that unforgettable line?”
“Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.”
“Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.”
“Normally I didn’t see a great deal. I didn’t hear a great deal either. I didn’t pay attention. Strictly speaking I wasn’t there. Strictly speaking I believe I’ve never been anywhere.”
“They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.”
“Yes, in my life, since we must call it so, there were three things, the inability to speak, the inability to be silent, and solitude, that’s what I’ve had to make the best of.”
“Unfortunately I am afraid, as always, of going on. For to go on means going from here, means finding me, losing me, vanishing and beginning again, a stranger first, then little by little the same as always, in another place, where I shall say I have always been, of which I shall know nothing, being incapable of seeing, moving, thinking, speaking, but of which little by little, in spite of these handicaps, I shall begin to know something, just enough for it to turn out to be the same place as always, the same which seems made for me and does not want me, which I seem to want and do not want, take your choice, which spews me out or swallows me up, I’ll never know, which is perhaps merely the inside of my distant skull where once I wandered, now am fixed, lost for tininess, or straining against the walls, with my head, my hands, my feet, my back, and ever murmuring my old stories, my old story, as if it were the first time.”
“It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.”
“ESTRAGON: Don’t touch me! Don’t question me! Don’t speak to me! Stay with me!
VLADIMIR: Did I ever leave you?
ESTRAGON: You let me go.”
“Vladimir: I don’t understand.
Estragon: Use your intelligence, can’t you?
Vladimir uses his intelligence.
Vladimir: (finally) I remain in the dark.”
“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that… Yes, yes, it’s the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it’s always the same thing. Yes, it’s like the funny story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don’t laugh any more.”
“ Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be? He’ll know nothing. He’ll tell me about the blows he received and I’ll give him a carrot. (pause) Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said? ”
“Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
“To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.”
“Estragon: Nothing to be done.”
“I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.”
I am blind.
Perhaps he can see into the future.”
“Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.”
“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. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.”
“You cried for night – it falls. Now cry in darkness.”
“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.”
“Habit is a great deadener.”
“Estragon: What about hanging ourselves?
Vladimir: Hmm. It’d give us an erection.”
“The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day.”
“The tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? There is nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain.”
“It’s so nice to know where you’re going, in the early stages. It almost rids you of the wish to go there.”
“Spend the years of learning squandering
Courage for the years of wandering
Through a world politely turning
From the loutishness of learning.”
“I don’t know: perhaps it’s a dream, all a dream. (That would surprise me.) I’ll wake, in the silence, and never sleep again. (It will be I?) Or dream (dream again), dream of a silence, a dream silence, full of murmurs (I don’t know, that’s all words), never wake (all words, there’s nothing else).
You must go on, that’s all I know.
They’re going to stop, I know that well: I can feel it. They’re going to abandon me. It will be the silence, for a moment (a good few moments). Or it will be mine? The lasting one, that didn’t last, that still lasts? It will be I?
You must go on.
I can’t go on.
You must go on.
I’ll go on. You must say words, as long as there are any – until they find me, until they say me. (Strange pain, strange sin!) You must go on. Perhaps it’s done already. Perhaps they have said me already. Perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story. (That would surprise me, if it opens.)
It will be I? It will be the silence, where I am? I don’t know, I’ll never know: in the silence you don’t know.
You must go on.
I can’t go on.
I’ll go on.”
“The fact would seem to be, if in my situation one may speak of facts, not only that I shall have to speak of things of which I cannot speak, but also, which is even more interesting, but also that I, which is if possible even more interesting, that I shall have to, I forget, no matter. And at the same time I am obliged to speak. I shall never be silent. Never. ”
“I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.”
“Personally of course I regret everything.
Not a word, not a deed, not a thought, not a need,
not a grief, not a joy, not a girl, not a boy,
not a doubt, not a trust, not a scorn, not a lust,
not a hope, not a fear, not a smile, not a tear,
not a name, not a face, no time, no place…that I do not regret, exceedingly.
An ordure, from beginning to end.”
“If you do not love me I shall not be loved. If I do not love you I shall not love.”
“To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.”
“Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.”
“Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.”
“But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.”
“And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept. ”
“But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.”
“For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.”
“I love order. It’s my dream. A world where all would be silent and still, and each thing in its last place, under the last dust.”
“Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.”
“[A]ll I want to do is sit on my ass and fart and think of Dante.”
“God damn you to hell, Sir, no, it’s indecent, there are limits! In six days, do you hear me, six days, God made the world. Yes Sir, no less Sir, the WORLD! And you are not bloody well capable of making me a pair of trousers in three months!’
‘But my dear Sir, my dear Sir, look at the world and look at my TROUSERS!”
“For to know nothing is nothing, not to want to know anything likewise, but to be beyond knowing anything, to know you are beyond knowing anything, that is when peace enters in, to the soul of the incurious seeker.”
“When a man in a forest thinks he is going forward in a straight line, in reality he is going in a circle, I did my best to go in a circle, hoping to go in a straight line.”
“let us say before i go any further, that i forgive nobody. i wish them all an atrocious life in the fires of icy hell and in the execrable generations to come.”
“All life long, the same questions, the same answers.”
“She felt, as she felt so often with Murphy, spattered with words that went dead as soon as they sounded; each word obliterated, before it had time to make sense, by the word that came next; so that in the end she did not know what had been said. It was like difficult music heard for the first time.”
“No symbols where none intended.”