Oh, I know I too shall cease and be as when I was not yet, only all over instead of in store. That makes me happy, often now my murmur falters and dies and I weep for happiness as I go along and for love of this old earth that has carried me so long and whose uncomplainingness will soon be mine. 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.
– Samuel Beckett –
Let it be soon…
Let it be soon…
Chris Barker writes:Or there’s P G Wodehouse…..!She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments. Whatever may be said in favour of the Victorians, it is pretty generally admitted that few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks. When two strong men stand face to face, each claiming to be Major Brabazon-Plank, it is inevitable that there will be a sense of strain, resulting in a momentary silence. A man who wore a tie that went twice round the neck was sure, sooner or later, to inflict some hideous insult on helpless womanhood. Add tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses, and you had what practically amounted to a fiend in human shape. One of those ghastly literary lunches…. This one was to honour Emma Lucille Agee who wrote that dirty novel that’s been selling in millions in America… The Agee woman told us for three quarters of an hour how she came to write her beastly book, when a simple apology was all that was required. The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun. It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine. “After all, golf is only a game,” said Millicent. Women say these things without thinking. It does not mean that there is any kink in their character. They simply don’t realise what they’re saying. My personal animosity against a writer never affects my opinion of what he writes. Nobody could be more anxious than myself, for instance, that Alan Alexander Milne should trip over a loose bootlace and break his bloody neck, yet I re-read his early stuff at regular intervals with all the old enjoyment. TTFN,CB
Waiting for Godot as written by Wodehouse, or Right Ho, Jeeves, as written by Beckett, might make interesting reading.One line I always remember (or think I remember) from Wodehouse, goes something like this:”Tinkerty tonk,” I said. And I meant it to sting.