Samuel Beckett

There is no use indicting words, they are no shoddier than what they peddle.

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

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We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

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[ Estragon :] Let’s go.

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

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Waiting for Godot act 1 (1952)

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We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?

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To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail … failure is his world and to shrink from it desertion …

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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.

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I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.

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Fail, fail again, fail better.

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We are all born mad. Some remain so.

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Vladimir: That passed the time. Estragon: It would have passed in any case. Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.

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The major sin is the sin of being born.

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

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Let me pray to God…The bastard! He doesn’t exist.

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Dublin University contains the cream of Ireland: rich and thick.

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There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.

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Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.

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My mistakes are my life.

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The fact is, it seems, that the most you can hope is to be a little less, in the end, the creature you were in the beginning, and the middle.

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Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again.

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Even death is unreliable: instead of zero it may be some ghastly hallucination, such as the square root of minus one.

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Habit is a great deadener.

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They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.

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VLADIMIR : That passed the time.

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Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful!

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ESTRAGON : Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let’s go.

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One of the thieves was saved. (Pause) It’s a reasonable percentage.

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Nothing to be done.

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You must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.

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Perhaps my best years are gone … but I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire that’s in me now.

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To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

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Ever tried? Ever failed? No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

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