Samuel Beckett
Samuel Beckett
Samuel Barclay Beckettwas a French-Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, and poet, who lived in Paris for most of his adult life and wrote in both English and French. He is widely regarded as among the most influential writers of the 20th century...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth13 April 1906
CityFoxrock, Ireland
CountryIreland
spiritual philosophical perfect
Poetry is essentially the antithesis of Metaphysics: Metaphysics purge the mind of the senses and cultivate the disembodiment of the spiritual; Poetry is all passionate and feeling and animates the inanimate; Metaphysics are most perfect when concerned with universals; Poetry, when most concerned with particulars.
fate too-late existentialism
Let us do something, while we have the chance! ... 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!
answers
Ah, the old questions, the old answers, there's nothing like them!
writing joyce
James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.
literature form bother
You are not satisfied unless form is so strictly divorced from content that you can comprehend the one without almost without bothering to read the other.
grieving tragedy goes-on
I can't go on. I'll go on.
beautiful father men
I had seen faces in photographs I might have found beautiful had I known even vaguely in what beauty was supposed to consist. And my father's face, on his death-bolster, had seemed to hint at some form of aesthetics relevant to man. But the faces of the living, all grimace and flush, can they be described as objects?
spring long done
I still smile it's not worth the trouble any more for a long time now it's not been worth the trouble the tongue spring goes into the mud I stay like this not thirsty any more the tongue goes back into the mouth it closes it has to make a straight line now it's done I've made the image.
beauty long phrases
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.
want enjoy ifs
If I was dead, I wouldn't know I was dead. That's the only thing I have against death. I want to enjoy my death.
extinction next landscape
In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
body use window
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
habit
Habit is a great deadener.
time night light
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.