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Samuel Beckett Biography

Samuel Barclay Beckett (/ˈbɛkɪt/; 13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989) was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, poet, and literary translator who lived in Paris for most of his adult life. He wrote in both English and French.

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Samuel Beckett Quotes

Fail, fail again, fail better.

Beautiful, Fail, Inspirational, Life

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.

Face, Girl, Grief, Place, Regret, Scorn

I cannot explain my plays. Each must find out for himself what is meant

Play, Plays, Meant, Explain

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?

Beautiful, Father, Grimace, Hint, Man, Men

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

Enough, Life, Mistake, Mistakes, Stories, Story

Vladimir: Did I ever leave you? Estragon: You let me go.

Estragon, Let, Let Me, Let Me Go, Vladimir, You Let Me Go

Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.

Ballast, Chains, Dog, Habit, Vomit

Words fail, there are times when even they fail.

Fail, Failing, Language, Time, Times, Words

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

Alternative, Alternatives, Beckett, Having, Nothing, Sun

I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side. (Pause. Krapp's lips move. No sound. ) Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.

Moving, Past, Hands, Moved, Lips, Breasts

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.

Carry, Cur, Despair, Loneliness, Love, Throw

Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity.

Humanity, Intelligence, Philosopher, Poet, Poets, Sense

Habit is a compromise effected between the individual and his environment, or between the individual and his own organic eccentricities, the guarantee of a dull inviolability, the lightning-conductor of his existence.

Dull, Effected, Guarantee, Guarantees, Habit, Lightning

That double-headed monster of damnation and salvation--Time.

Damnation, Monster, Monsters, Time

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

Silence, Quiet, Language, Unnecessary, Like

That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.

Call, Loneliness, Love, Men

Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.

Sea, Mind, Beacons, Unfathomable, Beacon

Let's go. " "We can't. " "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.

Godot, Waiting, Waiting For Godot, Why Not

The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.

Day, Die, Dies, Like, Shorter

There is man in his entirety, blaming his shoe when his foot is guilty.

Feet, Guilty, Man, Men, Shoe, Shoes

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