What did Samuel Beckett mean by: They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more. - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland Copy
+ That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly. Feraz Zeid, January 10, 2024January 10, 2024, Samuel Beckett, Cases, Time, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ All life long, the same questions, the same answers. Feraz Zeid, July 7, 2023December 12, 2023, Samuel Beckett, Long Life, Questions And Answers, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand. Feraz Zeid, January 10, 2024January 10, 2024, Samuel Beckett, Eye, Fool, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ The essential doesn’t change. Feraz Zeid, July 23, 2023December 12, 2023, Samuel Beckett, Essentials, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ You cried for night – it falls. Now cry in darkness. Feraz Zeid, July 9, 2023December 12, 2023, Samuel Beckett, Darkness, Night, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness. Feraz Zeid, January 10, 2024January 10, 2024, Samuel Beckett, Extinction, Landscape, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ We all are born mad. Some remain so. Feraz Zeid, August 16, 2023December 12, 2023, Samuel Beckett, Mad, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
+ Abode where lost bodies roam each searching for its lost one. Feraz Zeid, January 10, 2024January 10, 2024, Samuel Beckett, Body, Loneliness, 0 - Samuel Beckett Playwright and novelist · Ireland
When a work appears to be ahead of its time, it is only the time that is behind the work. - Jean Cocteau Artist · France
You can’t make an architect. But you can open the doors and windows toward the light as you see it. - Frank Lloyd Wright Architect · USA
Children have neither past nor future;they enjoy the present, which very few of us do. - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its shortness. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Every hour in itself, as it respects us in particular, is the only one we can call our own. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
It’s the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go. - Jean Genet Playwright · France
