My Darlings
Colm Tóibín: Drinking with Samuel Beckett, 5 April 2007
“... command. The marks of fear were all there, but fear as a gift, as a rare, ironic skin around the self, the unprotected soul was now ready to speak the bitter truth. None of us had ever heard anything like it. I shall soon be quite dead at last in spite of all. Perhaps next month. Then it will be the month of April or of May. For the year is still young, a ... ”