I asked her to look at me and after a few moments - (pause) - after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low) Let me in.
Samuel BeckettRead
Let's go." "We can't." "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the theme of waiting for something that may never arrive, highlighting existential uncertainty.
In this exchange from Samuel Beckett's play 'Waiting for Godot,' the characters illustrate the struggle between the desire for action and the paralysis of waiting. It symbolizes the human condition of anticipation, the absurdity of life, and the often futile search for meaning or purpose, as they wait for a character who never comes, representing unfulfilled expectations and the uncertainty of life.
In practice
During a discussion on the nature of existence, one could reference this quote to illustrate the theme of waiting.
I asked her to look at me and after a few moments - (pause) - after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low) Let me in.
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
And what I have, what I am, is enough, was always enough for me, and as far as my dear little sweet little future is concerned I have no qualms, I have a good time coming.
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.
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
We came to enjoy; we are being enjoyed. We came to rule; we are being ruled. We came to work; we are being worked. All the time, we find that. And this comes into every detail of our life.
The consistent thinker, the consistently moral man, is either a walking mummy or else, if he has not succeeded in stifling all his vitality, a fanatical monomaniac.
The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
One thin's sure and nothing's surer The rich get richer and the poor get - children. In the meantime, In between time...
when the sky is as grey as this - impeccably grey, a denial, really of the very concept of colour - and the stooped millions lift their heads, it's hard to tell the air from the impurities in our human eyes, as if the sinking climbing paisley curlicues of grit were part of the element itself, rain, spores, tears, film, dirt. Perhaps, at such moments, the sky is no more then the sum of the dirt that lives in our human eyes.
The quality of rhetoric emanating from the psychedelic community must improve radically. If it does not, we will forfeit the reclamation of our birthright and all opportunity for exploring the psychedelic dimension will be closed off.
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