At McSweeney’s, Matt Bell draws up his grading scale for the fall semester – “composed entirely of Samuel Beckett quotes.” The passage he designates for Fs:
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It’s awful. So all things limp together for the only possible. In the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. I forgive nobody. Nothing to do but stretch out comfortably on the rack, in the blissful knowledge you are nobody for eternity. All I say cancels out, I’ll have said nothing. Words are all we have. Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness. To restore silence is the role.
The Dish 