While working on a paper on voice and failure in Samuel Beckett's Happy Days, I came upon this powerful and spare letter that Beckett wrote to Alan Schneider upon learning of the death of Schneider's father after a long illness:
I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is no ease for the heart to be had from words or reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow's fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.
More on Beckett to come; next month the Comedie Française will produce Happy Days in its French version.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment