Avant-garde · Classic · Drama · Dramaturgy · Excerpt · Fiction · French Culture · French Literature · Irish Culture · Irish Literature · Modernism · Paraphrase · Passage · Play · Postmodernism · Quote · Stream of Consciousness · Theatre · Theatre of the Absurd

Samuel Beckett

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot. (Grove Press; 1 edition, May 17, 2011) Originally published 1952. Premiered 5 January 1953 at theThéâtre de Babylone, Paris France.

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Southern Gothic · Southern Literature · Southern Renaissance · Stream of Consciousness

William Faulkner

She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but I could see the window. I squatted there, holding the slipper. I couldn’t see it but my hands saw it, and I could hear it getting night, and my hands saw the slipper but I couldn’t see myself, but my hands could see the… Continue reading William Faulkner

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Southern Gothic · Southern Literature · Southern Renaissance · Stream of Consciousness

William Faulkner

I said You don’t know what worry is. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I can or not. I don’t know whether I can cry or not. I don’t know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet seed wild in… Continue reading William Faulkner

Rate this:

Avant-garde · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fiction · French Culture · French Literature · Irish Culture · Irish Literature · Modernism · Paraphrase · Passage · Postmodernism · Quote · Short Stories · Stream of Consciousness

Samuel Beckett

Where would I go, if I could go, who would I be, if I could be, what would I say, if I had a voice, who says this, saying it’s me? — Samuel Beckett, Stories and Texts for Nothing. (Grove Press; First Printing edition, January 13, 1994) Originally published January 1st 1974.

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Cataloguing · Classic · Collection · Colloquial Speech · Free Association · Free Verse · Interior Monologue · Lists · Poetry · Romanticism · Stream of Consciousness · Transcendentalism

Walt Whitman

You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs, And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row; You tokens diminute and lorn—(not now the flush of May,       or July clover-bloom—no grain of August now;) You pallid banner-staves—you pennants valueless—you overstay’d of       time, Yet my soul-dearest leaves confirming all the rest, The faithfulest—hardiest—last.… Continue reading Walt Whitman

Rate this: