Estragon: I can’t go on like this. Vladimir: That’s what you think. — Samuel Beckett

Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes. — Samuel Beckett

Estragon: Suppose we repented. Vladimir: Repented what? Estragon: Oh…(He reflects.) We wouldn’t have to go into the details. Vladimir: Our being born? — Samuel Beckett

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

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. — Samuel Beckett

Estragon: What about hanging ourselves? Vladimir: Hmm. It’d give us an erection. — Samuel Beckett

Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist? Vladimir: Yes, yes, we’re magicians. — Samuel Beckett

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! — Samuel Beckett

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

Enough, it’s time it ended in the refuge too. And yet I hesitate, I hesitate to… to end. Yes, there it is, it’s time it ended and yet I hesitate to–to end. — Samuel Beckett

The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

How time flies when one has fun! — Samuel Beckett

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. — Samuel Beckett

That double–headed monster of damnation and salvation––Time. — Samuel Beckett

All that is active, all that is enveloped in time and space, is endowed with what might be described as an abstract, ideal and absolute impermeability. — Samuel Beckett

The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day. — Samuel Beckett

That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly. — Samuel Beckett

Vladimir that passed the time. estragon it would have passed in any case. Vladimir yes, but not so rapidly. — Samuel Beckett

The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again. — Samuel Beckett

Yes, I dont know why, but I have never been disappointed, and I often was in the early days, without feeling at the same time, or a moment later, an undeniable relief. — Samuel Beckett

Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet, carry it for the time needed for it to love it and you it, then throw it away. — Samuel Beckett

I don’t know why I told this story. I could just as well have told another. Perhaps some other time I’ll be able to tell another. Living souls, you will see how alike they are. — Samuel Beckett

If you don’t know where you are currently standing, you’re dead. — Samuel Beckett

Try again. Fail again. Try better. — Samuel Beckett

All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. — Samuel Beckett

Ever tried. Ever failed. no matter. try again. fail again. fail better. (worstward ho!) — Samuel Beckett

What can it matter to me, that I succeed or fail ? The undertaking is none of mine, if they want me to succeed I’ll fail, and vice versa, so as not to be rid of my tormentors. — Samuel Beckett

Words fail, there are times when even they fail. — Samuel Beckett

To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail, that failure is his world and the shrink from desertion, art and craft, good housekeeping, living. — Samuel Beckett

A]ll I want to do is sit on my ass and fart and think of Dante. — Samuel Beckett

Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go. — Samuel Beckett

The end of a life is always vivifying. — Samuel Beckett

Do you always believe in the life to come? Mine was always that. — Samuel Beckett

Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

All life long, the same questions, the same answers. — Samuel Beckett

My dear Tom, Delighted to get your letter. Do write again. This life is terrible and I don’t understand how it can be endured. — Samuel Beckett

That’s the mistake I made, one of the mistakes, to have wanted a story for myself, whereas life alone is enough. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

How do you manage it, she said, at your age? I told her I’d been saving up for her all my life. — Samuel Beckett

I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I, but another whose life is just beginning. — Samuel Beckett

The memory came faint and cold of the story I might have told, a story in the likeness of my life, I mean without the courage to end or the strength to go on. — Samuel Beckett

Success and failure on the public level never mattered much to me, in fact I feel more at home with the latter, having breathed deep of its vivifying air all my writing life up to the last couple of years. — Samuel Beckett

T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech’s daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

Silence and darkness were all I craved. Well, I get a certain amount of both. They being one. — Samuel Beckett

Pozzo: I am blind. (Silence.) ESTRAGON: Perhaps he can see into the future. — Samuel Beckett

I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo. — Samuel Beckett

Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness. — Samuel Beckett

Don’t look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences. — Samuel Beckett

To restore silence is the role of objects. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile… a stain upon the silence. — Samuel Beckett

To think, when one is no longer young, when one is not yet old, that one is no longer young, that one is not yet old, that is perhaps something. — Samuel Beckett

Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must. — Samuel Beckett

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. — Samuel Beckett

I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps. — Samuel Beckett

In my head there are several windows, that I do know, but perhaps it is always the same one, open variously on the parading universe. — Samuel Beckett

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

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. — Samuel Beckett