I always thought old age would be a writerโs best chance. Whenever I read the late work of Goethe or W. B. Yeats I had the impertinence to identify with it. Now, my memoryโs gone, all the old fluencyโs disappeared. I donโt write a single sentence without saying to myself, โItโs a lie!โ So I know I was right. Itโs the best chance Iโve ever had.
Samuel BeckettThe 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 BeckettHave you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Samuel Beckett