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Samuel Beckett

Samuel Beckett Quotes

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“I realized that Joyce had gone as far as one could in the direction of knowing more, in control of one's material. He was always adding to it; you only have to look at his proofs to see that. I realised that my own way was impoverishment, in lack of knowledge and in taking away, subtracting rather than adding. When I first met Joyce, I didn't intend to be a writer. That only came later when I found out that I was no good at all at teaching. When I found I simply couldn't teach. But I do remember speaking about Joyce's heroic achievement. I had a great admiration for him. That's what it was: epic, heroic, what he achieved. I realized that I couldn't go down that same road.”

“And even my sense of identity was wrapped in a namelessness often hard to penetrate, as we have just seen I think…Yes, even then, when already all was fading, waves and particles, there could be no things but nameless things, no names but thingless names. I say that now, but after all what do I know now about then, now when the icy words hail down upon me, the icy meanings, and the world dies too, foully named. All I know is what the words know, and the dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning, a middle and an end as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead. And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept. To hell with it anyway.”

“I. What value is to be attached to the theory that Eve sprang, not from Adam's rib, but from a tumour in the fat of his leg (arse?). 2. Did the serpent crawl or, as Comestor affirms, walk upright? 3. Did Mary conceive through the ear, as Augustine and Adobard assert? 4. How much longer are we to hang about waiting for the antechrist? 5. Does it really matter which hand is employed to absterge the podex? 6. What is one to think of the Irish oath sworn by the natives with the right hand on the relics of the saints and the left on the v i r ile member? 7. Does nature observe the sabbath? 8. Is it true that the devils do not feel the pains of hell? 9. The algebraic theology of Craig. What is one to think of this? 10. Is it true that the infant Saint-Roch refused suck on Wednesdays and Fridays? II. What is one to think of the excommunication of vermin in t he sixteenth century? 12. Is one to approve of the Italian cobbler Lovat who, having cut off his testicles, crucified himself. 13. What was God doing with himself before the creation? 14. Might not the beatific vision become a source of boredom, in the long run? 15. Is it true that Judas' torments are suspended on Saturdays? 16. What if the mass for the dead were read over the living? And I recited the pretty quietist Pater, Our Father who art no more in heaven than on earth or in hell, I neither want nor desire that thy name be hallowed, thou knowest best what suits thee. Etc. The middle and the end are very pretty. It was in this frivolous and charming world that I took refuge, when my cup ran over. But I asked myself other questions concerning me perhaps more c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what? 14. Was not the winter exceptionally severe? 15. How long had I gone now without either confession or communion? 16. What was the name of the martyr who, being in prison, loaded with chains, covered with wounds and vermin. unable to stir, celebrated the consecration on his stomach and gave himself absolution? 17. What would I do until my death? Was there no means of hastening this, without falling into a state of sin? But before I launch my body properly so-called across these icy. then. with the thaw, muddy solitudes. I wish to say that I often thought of my bees, more often than of my hens. and God knows I thought often of my hemore c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what?”

“I. What value is to be attached to the theory that Eve sprang, not from Adam's rib, but from a tumour in the fat of his leg (arse?). 2. Did the serpent crawl or, as Comestor affirms, walk upright? 3. Did Mary conceive through the ear, as Augustine and Adobard assert? 4. How much longer are we to hang about waiting for the antechrist? 5. Does it really matter which hand is employed to absterge the podex? 6. What is one to think of the Irish oath sworn by the natives with the right hand on the relics of the saints and the left on the v i r ile member? 7. Does nature observe the sabbath? 8. Is it true that the devils do not feel the pains of hell? 9. The algebraic theology of Craig. What is one to think of this? 10. Is it true that the infant Saint-Roch n:fused suck on Wed nesdays and Fridays? II. What is one to think of the excommunication of vermin in t he sixteenth century? 12. Is one to approve of the Italian cobbler Lovat who, having cut off his testicles, crucified himself. 13. What was God doing with himself before the creation? 14. Might not the beatific vision become a source of boredom, in the long run? 15. Is it true that Judas' torments are suspended on Saturdays? 16. What if the mass for the dead were read over the living? And I recited the pretty quietist Pater, Our Father who art no more in heaven than on earth or in hell, I neither want nor desire that thy name be hallowed, thou knowest best what suits thee. Etc. The middle and the end are very pretty. It was in this frivolous and charming world that I took refuge, when my cup ran over. But I asked myself other questions concerning me perhaps more c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what? 14. Was not the winter exceptionally severe? 15. How long had I gone now without either confession or communion? 16. What was the name of the martyr who, being in prison, loaded with chains, covered with wounds and vermin. unable to stir, celebrated the consecration on his stomach and gave himself absolution? 17. What would I do until my death? Was there no means of hastening this, without falling into a state of sin? But before I launch my body properly so-called across these icy. then. with the thaw, muddy solitudes. I wish to say that I often thought of my bees, more often than of my hens. and God knows I thought often of my hens. And I thought above all of their dance, for my bees danced, oh not as men dance, to amuse themselves. but in a different way”

“Watt'ın başka bir koğuşa verilmesinden sonra yeniden karşılaşmamıza kadar belli bir süre geçti. Her zamanki gibi, yani sevdiğim havanın çağrısına uyduğum zamanlardaki gibi bahçemde dolaşıyordum. Watt da benzer biçimde kendi bahçesinde dolaşıyordu. Ama artık aynı bahçe söz konusu olmadığı için karşılaşamıyorduk. Bu yeni karşılaşma, sonunda ileride betimleneceği gibi gerçekleştiğinde, her ikimiz de; Watt da ben de bunu arzulasak, çok daha önce karşılaşabileceğimizi anladık. Ama işte bizde eksik olan karşılaşma arzusuydu. Watt benimle karşılaşmak istemiyordu, ben de Watt ile karşılaşmak istemiyordum. Gerçekten de birbirimizle bir araya gelmek, yeniden dolaşmak ve laflamak düşüncesi düşmanca gelmiyordu bize, hayır, ilgisi yok, yalnızca Watt da ben de buna istekli değildik.”

“Kardeşlere gereksinme duyduğunu asla kabul etmemişti. Ama duyuyordu işte. Ardında bıraktığı yaşamla, ona taze umutlar yeşerten henüz başlamadığı yaşam arasında duyumsadığı bu (psikiyatrik/psikotik) çelişki içinde, ikinciden yana koyuyordu tavrını. İlk izlenimleri (hep en iyisidir), iyi şeyler umut etmesi, hastalarla arasında benzerlikler kurması gibi şeyler güçlendiriyordu kanısını. Geriye yalnızca dayanaklar bulmak, bunları yalanlamaya çalışan bütün öteki unsurları ortadan kaldırmak kalıyordu. Zor ama keyifli bir işti. Koğuşlarda geçen her saat, hastalara duyduğu saygıyı ve sağlıklı bir aklın göstergesini dış gerçeklikle kurulan ilişkiye bağlayan sahte bilimsel yaklaşıma duyduğu tiksintiyi artırıyordu zorunlu olarak. Her geçen saat artırıyordu. Dış gerçekliğin doğası anlaşılmaz kalıyordu. Bilimin erkekleri, kadınları ve çocukları veriler önünde boyunlarını bükmek zorunda kalıyordu, ister istemez. Dış gerçekliğin ya da kısacası gerçekliğin tanımı, tanımlayanın duyarlılığına göre değişiyordu. Ama hepsi, bu gerçeklikle temasa geçmenin, temas ne kadar üstünkörü olursa olsun, ender görülen bir ayrıcalık olduğunda birleşir duumdaydı. Bu anlayışın ışığında hastalar gerçeklikten, ortalama birinin gerçekliğinden, ağır vakalarda gözlemlendiği gibi bütünüyle olmasa da en azından bazı temel noktalarda “kopmuş” olarak tanımlanıyorlardı. Tedavinin işlevi hastayı kendi küçük, özel çöplüğünden çıkarıp muhteşem dünyanın merak, sevgi, nefret, tutku, sevinme, ağlama gibi farklı unsurlarıyla, paha biçilmez ayrıcalığına yeniden kavuşacağı ve kendisinden hiç de farklı olmayan ötekilerle akılcı ve dengeli biçimde avunacağı duruma getirmek ve aradaki uçurumu kapamaktı. Ama bütün bunlar, psikiyatrların sürgün diye tanımladığı bedensel ve ussal deneyimi barınak; iyiliksever bir dizgedan kovulmuş olarak değerlendiren, hastalığı da müthiş bir fiyaskodan kaçmış kişiler olarak gören Murphy'yi çileden çıkarıyordu. Eğer aklı günlük olayları yorulmak bilmeyen bir araç gibi alt alta yazıp toplayan şaşmaz bir yazarkasa olsa, o zaman kuşkusuz aklın yitimine üzüntü duyabilirdi. Ama böyle olmadığına göre, aklı diye adlandırdığı şey bir araçtan çok, içinden kendinin soyutlanmış olduğu günlük olayların bir izdüşümü biçiminde ortaya çıktığına göre aklın yok oluşunu, zincirlerinden kurtulmayla özdeşleştirip alkışlamasından daha doğal ne olabilirdi? Murphy'nin saplantısının basitleştirdiği ve çarpıttığı çelişki o halde büyük dünyayla küçük dünyayı temelde karşı karşıya getiriyordu. Hastaların etkisiyle ikincisini, psikiyatrların zorlaması ile ilkini yeğleme arasında kararsızca dolanıyordu. Kararsızlık yalnızca olgular düzlemindeydı. Yalnızca olgular. Seçimini yapmıştı o. "Ben büyük dünyadan değilim, küçük dünyadanım" nakaratı Murphy için epey eskilere dayanıyordu ve olumsuz bir inanca, daha doğrusu olumsuz iki inanca dönüşmüştü. Bir kere mağarasının mutlu manzaralarını gördükten sonra bırakın bunları geliştirip işlemeyi, fiyaskolara nasıl dayanabilirdi? Arnold Geulincx’in güzelim Latincesiyle söylediği gibi: Ubi nihil vales, ibi nihil velis. Ama hiçbir değer taşımadığı bir yerde, hiçbir şey istememesi yeterli olmuyordu, bir adım daha atıp yalnızca kendisini sevebilecek bir ussal aşkın dışında kalan her şeyi yadsıması da yeterli olmuyordu çünkü sevilecek başka yanı yoktu. Bu hiçbir zaman yeterli olmamıştı ve yeterli olabileceğine ilişkin hiçbir belirti göstermiyordu. Bu özellikler ve öteki ikinci derecede önemli şeyler, maddesel düzlemde destek bulsalar (örneğin sallanan iskemle) ve kendileri için her yönde baskı yapsalar da istenen kararın kesinleşmesini başaramazlardı. Parçalanmışlığı sürüyordu; Celia'ya, baharatlı ekmeğe ve benzeri şeylere duyduğu zayıflık bunun göstergesiydi. Tek parçada bütünleşme olanaklarından yoksundu.”

“Yes, I represent for her a tidy little capital and, if I should ever happen to die, I am convinced she would be genuinely annoyed. (This should help me to live.) I like to fancy that when the fatal hour of reckoning comes (if it ever does), and my debt to nature is paid at last, she will do her best to prevent the removal, from where it now stands, of the old vase in which I shall have accomplished my vicissitudes. And perhaps in the place now occupied by my head she will set a melon, or a vegetable-marrow, or a big pineapple with its little tuft (or better still, I don't know why, a swede), in memory of me. Then I shall vanish quite (as is so often the way with people when they are buried).”