Beckett speaks, 1987

A ton of worms

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.

An instant

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

Unhappiness

Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world.

Their bliss

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.

Silences

I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.

If...

If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.

Nothing, nobody

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful.

The task of the artist

To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

Beckettiana

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.