NOTES FOR SAM for Samuel Beckett How like the sun each day having no alternative he would rise to go to his writing table. How he understood that no utterances could ever give shape to the chaos of life. How by simplicity he engaged vast ideas in tiny trickles of closely guarded language. How knowingly he faced that great avalanche of fortuitous events we call the universe. How while waiting for the hour to strike he hoped that it would not and feared that it would. How he eliminated the superfluous to bring forth fundamental sounds. How his face turned somber in the presence of indiscretion. How he went silent when confronted with the fact of his generosity. How a smile came to his eyes during the final sentence as he chanced upon the words: Oh to end again!
Copyright © 1996 Raymond Federman