Views: 307
Date created: April 2010
Birthdate April 13, 1906
Zodiac Aries
Location Dublin,
Country Ireland
Etnhnicity
Job others,
I can't go on, I'll go on.
The only sin is the sin of being born
Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
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
The new light above my table is a great improvement. With all this darkness around me I feel less alone. (Pause.) In a way. (Pause.) I love to get up and move about in it, then back here to... (hesitates) ...me. (Pause.)
The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said.
All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.
No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
The tears of the world are a constant quality. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
I happened to look up and there it was. All over and done with, at last. I sat on for a few moments with the ball in my hand and the dog yelping and pawing at me. (Pause.) Moments. Her moments, my moments (Pause.) The dog's moments.
How do you manage it, she said, at your age? I told her I'd been saving up for her all my life.
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.
I asked her to look at me and after a few moments - (pause) - after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low) Let me in.
Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.
Henry: I usen't to need anyone, just to myself, stories, there was a great one about an old fellow called Bolton, I never finished it, I never finished any of them, I never finished anything, everything always went on for ever. (Pause.)
Ada: And why life? (Pause.) Why life, Henry? (Pause.) Is there anyone about? Henry: Not a living soul. Ada: I thought as much. (Pause.) When we longed to have it to ourselves there was always someone. Now that it does not matter the place is deserted.
Je suis comme
All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again Fail better.
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be? He'll know nothing. He'll tell me about the blows he received and I'll give him a carrot. (pause) Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can't go on! (Pause.) What have I said?
I always thought old age would be a writer
there is [...] a last even of last times of saying if you do not love me I shall not be loved if I do not love you I shall not love
The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.
Poor Willie - running out - ah well - can't be helped - just one of those old things - another of those old things - just can't be cured - cannot be cured - ah yes - poor dear Willie - good Lord! - good God! - ah well - no worse - no better, no worse - no change - no pain - hardly any - great thing that - nothing like it - pure ... what? - what? - ah yes - poor Willie - no zest - for anything - no interest - in life - poor dear Willie - sleep for ever - marvellous gift - in my opinion - always said so - wish I had it
Poets are the sense, philosophers
We are not merely more weary because of yesterday, we are other, no longer what we were before the calamity of yesterday.
Hamm: And the horizon? Nothing on the horizon? Clov: (Lowering the telescope, turning towards Hamm, exasperated): What in God's name would 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? Clove: (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!
It is midnight. Rain is beating against the window.
Clov: If I don't kill the rat, he'll die. Hamm: That's right.
I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.
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