And all these questions I ask myself. It is not in a spirit of curiosity. I cannot be silent. About myself I need know nothing. Here all is clear. No, all is not clear. But the discourse must go on. So one invents obscurities. Rhetoric.
Samuel BeckettWhen the object is perceived as particular and unique and not merely the member of a family, when it appears independent of any general notion and detached from the sanity of a cause, isolated and inexplicable in the light of ignorance, then and only then may it be a source of enchantment.
Samuel BeckettOver, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.
Samuel BeckettBut I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.
Samuel Beckett