One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back
into the darkness of the ark -- Kafka

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Beckett's "Texts For Nothing"

If nothing turns sour, we'll leave early tomorrow morning for Stuttgart (via Atlanta). Once I'm on the plane I'll leave my Kindlized Beckett behind and crack a shiny new paper copy of Durrenmatt's The Pledge.

Anyway, a few parting bullets from Beckett's "Texts for Nothing":
  • Piers pricking his oxen o'er the plain, no, for at the end of the furrow, before turning to the next, he raised his eyes to the sky and said, Bright again too early
  • let us be dupes, dupes of every time and tense
  • palp your skull, seat of understanding
  • He'll have served in the navy, perhaps under Jellicoe, while I was potting at the invader from behind a barrel of Guinness, with my arquebuse
  • Yes, there are moments, like this moment, when I seem almost restored to the feasible. Then it goes, all goes, and I'm far again, with a far story again, I wait for me afar for my story to begin, to end, and again this voice cannot be mine. That's where I'd go, if I could go, that's who I'd be, if I could be
  • the accused will be my soul
  • I'm a prisoner, frantic with corporeality
  • unnamable thing that I name and name and never wear out
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