Writer, Novelist, Poet, Playwright, Translator, Author, Cricketer, Essayist, Theatre Director
- Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world.
- There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.
- Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful.
- How can one better magnify the Almighty than by sniggering with him at his little jokes, particularly the poorer ones.
- I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
- We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?
- Habit is a great deadener.
- 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.
- Birth was the death of him.
- To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
- We are all born mad. Some remain so.
- Probably nothing in the world arouses more false hopes Than the first four hours of a diet.
- Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.
- Words are all we have.
- Make sense who may. I switch off.
- Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.
- We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
- To think, when one is no longer young, when one is not yet old, that one is no longer young, that one is not yet old, that is perhaps something.
- The bastard! He doesn't exist!
- Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
- 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.
- What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
Samuel Barclay Beckett was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, and poet, who lived in Paris for most of his adult life and wrote in both English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black comedy and gallows humour.
Beckett is widely regarded as among the most influential writers of the 20th century. He is considered one of the last modernists. As an inspiration to many later writers, he is also sometimes considered one of the first postmodernists. He is one of the key writers in what Martin Esslin called the "Theatre of the Absurd". His work became increasingly minimalist in his later career.
Beckett was awarded the 1969 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his writing, whichâ€”in new forms for the novel and dramaâ€”in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation". He was elected Saoi of AosdÃ¡na in 1984.