Slouching Blog

Samuel Beckett:

You must go on, that's all I know.
They're going to stop, I know that well: I can feel it. They're going to abandon me. It will
be the silence, for a moment (a good few moments). Or it will be mine? The lasting one,
that didn't last, that still lasts? It will be I?
You must go on.
I can't go on.
You must go on.
I'll go on. You must say words, as long as there are any - until they find me, until they say
me. (Strange pain, strange sin!) You must go on. Perhaps it's done already. Perhaps they
have said me already. Perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before
the door that opens on my story. (That would surprise me, if it opens.)
It will be I? It will be the silence, where I am? I don't know, I'll never know: in the silence
you don't know.
You must go on.
I can't go on.
I'll go on.