But why do this, the reader may ask. Why push any form of art toward the edge of nothingness? Well, first it is always a challenge to see how far one can go in any direction. Second, the kind of experience Samuel Beckett gets across is really a larger portion of life than most of us are willing to admit even to ourselves.

– WILLIAM BARRETT in The New York Times

Malloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett @ IndieBound

Quotes

But if I finish too soon? That does not matter either. For then I shall speak of the things that remain in my possession, that is a thing I have always wanted to do. It will be a kind of inventory. In any case that is a thing I must leave to the very last moment, so as to be sure of not having made a mistake.

…suppose because I want to be surprised, just once more. For in the room it is not night, I know, here it is never really night, I don’t care what I said, but often darker than now, whereas out there up in the sky it is black night, with few stars, just enough to show that the black night I see is truly of mankind and not merely painted on the window-pane, for they tremble, like true stars, as they would not do if they were painted.

The island. A last effort. The islet. The shore facing the open sea is jagged with creeks. One could live there, perhaps happy, if life was a possible thing, but nobody lives there. The deep water comes washing into its heart, between high walls of rock. One day nothing will remain of it but two islands, separated by a gulf, narrow at first, then wider and wider as the centuries slip by, two islands, two reefs. It is difficult to speak of man, under such conditions.