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doc#112 | was waiting. </p><p> My wish to meet Samuel | Beckett | had been prompted by simple curiosity and |
doc#112 | European ... mood of despair". But to me | Beckett | 's writing had seemed permeated with love |
doc#112 | conference on religious drama near Paris. When | Beckett | 's name came into the discussion, the priest |
doc#112 | discussion, the priest grew loud and told me that | Beckett | "hates life". That, I thought, is at least |
doc#112 | thing I can find out when we meet. </p><p> | Beckett | 's appearance is rough-hewn Irish. The features |
doc#112 | shattering. For one thing, the world that | Beckett | sees is already shattered. His talk turns |
doc#112 | must let it in because it is the truth, but | Beckett | did not take to the word truth. </p><p> " |
doc#112 | recent art we find it preoccupied with form. | Beckett | 's own work is an example. Plays more highly |
doc#112 | us. </p><p> The personal quality of Samuel | Beckett | is similar to qualities I had found in |
doc#112 | a Christian, I know I do not stand where | Beckett | stands, but I do see much of what he sees |