{"quotes":[{"text":"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.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","fuck","irish","off","samuel","writer"],"id":19085,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"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.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","dead","irish","samuel","words","writer"],"id":40997,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","krapp","life","misery","play"],"id":59665,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"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.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","krapp","moments","play","relationship"],"id":75771,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"In a sense, Joyce was Beckett's Don Quixote, and Beckett was his Sancho Panza. Joyce aspired to the One; Beckett encapsulated the fragmented many. But as each author accomplished his task, it was in the service of the other. Ultimately, Beckett's landscapes would resound with articulate silence, and his empty spaces would collect within themselves the richness of multiple shadows--a physicist would say the negative particles--of all that exists in absence, as in the white patches of an Abstract Expressionist painting. Becket would evoke, on his canvasses of vast innuendo and through the interstices of conscious and unconscious thought, the richness that Joyce had made explicit in words and intricate structure.","author":"Lois Gordon","tags":["beckett","joyce","literature","the-one-and-the-many"],"id":94658,"author_id":"Lois+Gordon"},{"text":"When a man in a forest thinks he is going forward in a straight line, in reality he is going in a circle, I did my best to go in a circle, hoping to go in a straight line.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","forest","logic","malone-dies","molloy","page-94","part-1","part-i","sly","the-unnamable","wit"],"id":107071,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.","author":"Samuel Beckett","tags":["beckett","endgame","funny","unhappiness-nothing"],"id":171612,"author_id":"Samuel+Beckett"},{"text":"I have Shakespeared my Moliere to Tenessee, and I am Wild for Becket! But I got a little tired of the redundancy.","author":"Natasha Tsakos","tags":["beckett","moliere","shakespeare","tenessee","theatre"],"id":178011,"author_id":"Natasha+Tsakos"},{"text":"HAMM:Yesterday! What does that mean? Yesterday!CLOV (violently):That means that bloody awful day, long ago, before this bloody awful day. I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.(Pause.).","author":"Beckett Samuel","tags":["absurdity","beckett","existentialism"],"id":206336,"author_id":"Beckett+Samuel"},{"text":"He thought of hanging himself, to pass the time.","author":"Johnny Rich","tags":["beckett","boredom","ennui","godot","hanging","samuel-beckett","suicide"],"id":261003,"author_id":"Johnny+Rich"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":18,"pages":2,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}