Free The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett

say,
     without loss of face, that it is in some way related to that lesson too hastily proclaimed,
     too hastily denied. For all I need say is this, that if I have a pensum to perform
     it is because I could not say my lesson, and that when I have finished my pensum I
     shall stillhave my lesson to say, before I have the right to stay quiet in my corner, alive and
     dribbling, my mouth shut, my tongue at rest, far from all disturbance, all sound,
     my mind at peace, that is to say empty. But this does not get me very far. For even
     should I hit upon the right pensum, somewhere in this churn of words at last, I would
     still have to reconstitute the right lesson, unless of course the two are one and
     the same, which obviously is not impossible either. Strange notion in any case, and
     eminently open to suspicion, that of a task to be performed, before one can be at
     rest. Strange task, which consists in speaking of oneself. Strange hope, turned towards
     silence and peace. Possessed of nothing but my voice, the voice, it may seem natural,
     once the idea of obligation has been swallowed, that I should interpret it as an obligation
     to say something. But is it possible? Bereft of hands, perhaps it is my duty to clap
     or, striking the palms together, to call the waiter, and of feet, to dance the Carmagnole.
     But let us first suppose, in order to get on a little, then we’ll suppose something
     else, in order to get on a little further, that it is in fact required of me that
     I say something, something that is not to be found in all I have said up to now. That
     seems a reasonable assumption. But thence to infer that the something required is
     something about me suddenly strikes me as unwarranted. Might it not rather be the
     praise of my master, intoned, in order to obtain his forgiveness? Or the admission
     that I am Mahood after all and these stories of a being whose identity he usurps,
     and whose voice he prevents from being heard, all lies from beginning to end? And
     what if Mahood were my master? I’ll leave it at that, for the time being. So many
     prospects in so short a time, it’s too much. Decidedly it seems impossible, at this
     stage, that I should dispense with questions, as I promised myself I would. No, I
     merely swore I’d stop asking them. And perhaps before long, who knows, I shall light
     on the happy combination which will prevent them from ever arising again in my – let
     us not be over-nice – mind. For what I am doing is not being done without a minimum
     of mind. Not mine perhaps, granted, with pleasure, but I draw on it, atleast I try and look as if I did. Rich matter there, to be exploited, fatten you up,
     suck it to the core, keep you going for years, tasty into the bargain, I quiver at
     the thought, give you my word, spoken in jest, quiver and hurry on, all life before
     me, on and forget, what I was saying, just now, something important, it’s gone, it’ll
     come back, no regrets, as good as new, unrecognisable , let’s hope so, some day when I feel more on for high-class nuts to crack. On. The
     master. I never paid him enough attention . No more perhapses either, that old trick is worn to a thread. I’ll forbid myself
     everything, then go on as if I hadn’t. The master. A few allusions here and there,
     as to a satrap, with a view to enlisting sympathy. They clothed me and gave me money,
     that kind of thing, the light touch. Then no more. Or Moran’s boss, I forget his name.
     Ah yes, certain things, things I invented, hoping for the best, full of doubts, croaking
     with fatigue, I remember certain things, not always the same. But to investigate this
     matter seriously, I mean with as much futile ardour as that of the underling, which
     I hoped was mine, close to mine, the road to mine, no, that never occurred to me.
     And if it occurs to me now it is because I have despaired of mine. A moment of discouragement,
     to strike while hot. My master then, assuming he is