In Samuel Becket's Words

I "discovered" Samuel Becket as an undergraduate, and recall driving to the University of Houston from the Rice campus to see "Krapp's Last Tape" and "Waiting for Godot." In the intervening years, we saw Beckett produced at the ART in Cambridge, a controversial performance that outraged Beckett. Water over the dam.

This morning, still feeling the sting of the last rejection of Festival Madness, I was trolling through the New York Times Book Review and in the ending essay found Geoff Nicholson's musings on being prolific. That would not be me, since I write at the rate of a book every three years, an unpublished book. They keep accumulating.

This is what Samuel Becket said:
"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better."

Fail better. I like that.

Happy Sunday. I just made a pot of curried cauliflower soup and tonight we're celebrating the Chinese New Year belatedly with chicken and vegetables in lettuce cups. Sounds good. Ethnic food rocks.

Grapeshot