Samuel Beckett

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.

To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.

Vladimir: I don't understand. Estragon: Use your intelligence, can't you? Vladimir uses his intelligence. Vladimir: (finally) I remain in the dark.

Dying for dark — and the darker the Worse. Strange.

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.

But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.

...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

Yes, there is no denying it, any longer, it is not you who are dead, but all the others. So you get up and go to your mother, who thinks she is alive. That's my impression. But now I shall have to get myself out of this ditch. How joyfully I would vanish here, sinking deeper and deeper under the rains.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.

Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.

Estragon: I can't go on like this._x000D_ Vladimir: That's what you think.

Go on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.

POZZO: I am blind. (Silence.) ESTRAGON: Perhaps he can see into the future.

Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.

Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.

Finished, it's finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished. Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there's a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap. I can't be punished any more. I'll go now to my kitchen, ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, and wait for him to whistle me. Nice dimensions, nice proportions, I'll lean on the table, and look at the wall, and wait for him to whistle me.

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.

Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.