Irish - Playwright | April 13, 1906 - December 22, 1989
Words are all we have.
Samuel Beckett
CommunicationWords
What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
FunnyManDestinyYouKnowMore
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
WindowBodyOutWouldThrowUse
Do we mean love, when we say love?
LoveSayMean
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.
MeShineHellLookDownGo
It is right that he too should have his little chronicle, his memories, his reason, and be able to recognize the good in the bad, the bad in the worst, and so grow gently old down all the unchanging days, and die one day like any other day, only shorter.
GoodMemoriesDayGrowDieBad
No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.
BusinessRegretLongBornNothing
Dublin university contains the cream of Ireland: Rich and thick.
RichUniversityIrelandThickCream
Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards.
BonePickPersonallyGraveyards
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