Status Updates From Three Novels by Samuel Beck...

"In my life, since we must call it so, there were three things, the inability to speak, the inability to be silent, and solitude, that's what I've had to make the best of."

"the question may be asked, off the record, why time doesn't pass, doesn't pass from you, why it piles up all about you, instant on instant, on all sides, deeper and deeper, thicker and thicker, your time, others' time, the time of the ancient dead and the dead yet unborn, why it buries you grain by grain neither dead nor alive, with no memory of anything, no hope of anything, no knowledge of anything...."

"If only this voice could stop, this meaningless voice which prevents you from being nothing, just barely prevents you from being nothing and nowhere, just enough to keep alight this little yellow flame feebly darting from side to side, panting, as if straining to tear itself from its wick, it should never have been lit, or it should never have been fed, or it should have been put out, it should have been let go out"

"The one outside of life we always were in the end, all our long vain life long."

"Nothing to do but stretch out comfortably on the rack, in the blissful knowledge you are nobody for all eternity."

"Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end."

In which case, far from sucking the sixteen stones turn and turn about, I was really only sucking four, always the same, turn and turn about.
But I shuffled them well in my pockets, before I began to suck, and again, while I sucked, before transferring them, in the hope of obtaining a more general circulation of the stones from pocket to pocket. But this was only a makeshift that could not long content a man like me.

"The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue."

"Here lies a ne'er-do-well, six feet under hell."

"To know you can do better next time, unrecognizably better, and that there is no next time, and that it is a blessing there is not, there is a thought to be going on with."

"I have spoken softly, gone my ways softly, all my days, as behoves one who has nothing to say, nowhere to go, and so nothing to gain by being seen ot heard."

"What matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying, I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am."