Сэмюэл Беккет цитаты

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„Сказать - это выдумка. Неправильно, очень правильно неправильно.“

„Свобода мысли может состоять только в способности разума перейти от фрагментарного состояния к целостному.“

„Восстанавливать тишину — привилегия окружающих нас предметов.“

„Они были наиболее правильными, согласно их богу.“

„Единственный грех - это грех рождения.“

„В жизни есть нечто ... более важное, чем пунктуальность, и это приличия.“

„Лично я, конечно, сожалею обо всем.“

„Плевать я хотел на кокосовые орехи!“

„Светило солнце – а что еще ему оставалось делать? – и освещало обыденное.“

„Хамм: Могут ли быть страдания (он зевает) выше моего?“

„О да, добрый Сэмюэл, у тебя всегда найдется пара мрачных слов.“

„Мы все рождаемся сумасшедшими. Кое-кто им остаётся.“

„Строго говоря, меня там не было. Строго говоря, полагаю, я никогда нигде и не был.“

„Ба, свежие новости, свежие новости это не последние.“

„Потеря сознания для меня никогда не была большой потерей.“

„Слезы, это мог бы быть тон, если бы они не были такими легкими, настоящий тон и, наконец, тенор.“

“To go on means going from here, means finding me, losing me, vanishing and beginning again, a stranger first, then little by little the same as always, in another place, where I shall say I have always been, of which I shall know nothing, being incapable of seeing, moving, thinking, speaking, but of which little by little, in spite of these handicaps, I shall begin to know something, just enough for it to turn out to be the same place as always, the same which seems made for me and does not want me, which I seem to want and do not want, take your choice, which spews me out or swallows me up, I’ll never know, which is perhaps merely the inside of my distant skull where once I wandered, now am fixed, lost for tininess, or straining against the walls, with my head, my hands, my feet, my back, and ever murmuring my old stories, my old story, as if it were the first time.”

“Don't wait to be hunted to hide, that's always been my motto.”

“I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.”

“I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.”

“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.”

“Deplorable mania, when something happens, to inquire what.”

“My keepers, why keepers, I'm in no danger of stirring an inch, ah I see, it's to make me think I'm a prisoner, frantic with corporeality, rearing to get out and away.”

“We are no longer the same, you wiser but not sadder, and I sadder but not wiser, for wiser I could hardly become without grave personal inconvenience, whereas sorrow is a thing you can keep adding to all your life long, is it not, like a stamp or an egg collection, without feeling very much the worse for it, is it not.”

“I get up, go out, and everything is changed. The blood drains from my head, the noise of things bursting, merging, avoiding one another, assails me on all sides, my eyes search in vain for two things alike, each pinpoint of skin screams a different message, I drown in the spray of phenomena.”

“Hamm: What's he doing?(CLOV raises lid of NAGG's bin, stoops, looks into it. Pause.)Clov: He's crying.(He closes lid, straightens up)Hamm: Then he's living.”

“Perhaps it's done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, 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.”

“At no moment do I know what I’m talking about, nor of whom, nor of where, nor how, nor why, but I could employ fifty wretches for this sinister operation and still be short of the fifty-first, to close the circuit, that I know, without knowing what it means.”

“But he had turned, little by little, a disturbance into words, he had made a pillow of old words, for his head.”

“They never lynch children, babies, no matter what they do they are whitewashed in advance.”

“Tears, that could be the tone, if they weren't so easy, the true tone and tenor at last.”

“What do you expect, one is what one is, partly at least.”

“A mask of dirty old hairy leather, with two holes and a slit, it was too far gone for the old trick of please your honour and God reward you and pity upon me. It was disastrous.”

“Yes, yes, I am mistaken, I am mistaken.”

“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.”

“Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was, but that I was, forgot to be.”

“Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.”

“The time-state of attainment eliminates so accurately the time-state of aspiration, that the actual seems the inevitable, and, all conscious intellectual effort to reconstitute the invisible and unthinkable as a reality being fruitless, we are incapable of appreciating our joy by comparing it with our sorrow.”

“Krapp: 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.”

“Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.”

“Hamm: There's something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.”

“To restore silence is the role of objects.”

“It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.”

“For the only way one can speak of nothing is to speak of it as though it were something, just as the only way one can speak of God is to speak of him as though he were a man, which to be sure he was, in a sense, for a time, and as the only way one can speak of man, even our anthropologists have realized that, is to speak of him as though he were a termite.”

“Hamm: Look at the ocean!(Clov gets down, takes a few steps towards window left, goes back for ladder, carries it over and sets it down under window left, gets up on it, turns the telescope on the without, looks at length. He starts, lowers the telescope, examines it, turns it again on the without.)Clov: Never seen anything like that!Hamm (anxious): What? A sail? A fin? Smoke?Clov (looking): The light is sunk. Hamm (relieved): Pah! We all knew that. Clov (looking): There was a bit left. Hamm: The base. Clov (looking): Yes. Hamm: And now? Clov (looking): All gone. Hamm: No gulls? Clov (looking): Gulls! Hamm: And the horizon? Nothing on the horizon? Clov (lowering the telescope, turning towards Hamm, exasperated): What in God's name could there be on the horizon? (Pause.) Hamm: The waves, how are the waves? Clov: The waves? (He turns the telescope on the waves.) Lead. Hamm: And the sun? Clov (looking): Zero. Hamm: But it should be sinking. Look again. Clov (looking): Damn the sun. Hamm: Is it night already then? Clov (looking): No. Hamm: Then what is it? Clov (looking): Gray. (Lowering the telescope, turning towards Hamm, louder.) Gray! (Pause. Still louder.) GRRAY! (Pause. He gets down, approaches Hamm from behind, whispers in his ear.) Hamm (starting): Gray! Did I hear you say gray? Clov: Light black. From pole to pole.”