Waiting for Godot

I heard about this amazing writer for the first time not long ago, in a DRAMA course I took with Eliane Lisboa. I fell in love right away.
"Waiting for Godot" is so far my favorite play from what I´ve read from him. "Didi & Gogo" wait for someone the whole play... someone who never comes. It´s all about waiting. It makes us think of people and things we wait for, what are we waiting for?! The dialogue between "Didi & Gogo" is the great thing about the play, it shows us how good Becktt is with words and with the truth behind everything. Take a look: www.themodernword.com/beckett/beckett_biography.html

A primeira vez que ouvi falar deste grande escritor não foi há muito tempo, num curso de dramaturgia com Eliane Lisboa. Caí no amor (literalmente do inglês, delícia de expressão!).
"Esperando por Godot" é por agora minha obra favorita das que li dele. "Didi & Gogo" esperam por alguém por toda a peça, alguém que nunca vem. É tudo sobre essa espera. Nos faz pensar em pessoas e coisas que esperamos. O que estamos esperando?! O diálogo entre "Didi & Gogo" é o melhor da peça, nos mostra o quanto Beckett desfaz palavras sabiamente e com a verdade por trás de tudo. O site acima é o que eu recomendo sobre ele. Abaixo, um pedaço dele:

Act 01 (...)
VLADIMIR:
When I think of it . . . all these years . . . but for me . . . where would you be . . . (Decisively.) You'd be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute, no doubt about it.
ESTRAGON:
And what of it?
VLADIMIR:
(gloomily). It's too much for one man. (Pause. Cheerfully.) On the other hand what's the good of losing heart now, that's what I say. We should have thought of it a million years ago, in the nineties.
ESTRAGON:
Ah stop blathering and help me off with this bloody thing.
VLADIMIR:
Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among the first. We were respectable in those days. Now it's too late. They wouldn't even let us up. (Estragon tears at his boot.) What are you doing?
ESTRAGON:
Taking off my boot. Did that never happen to you?
VLADIMIR:
Boots must be taken off every day, I'm tired telling you that. Why don't you listen to me?
ESTRAGON:
(feebly). Help me!
VLADIMIR:
It hurts?
ESTRAGON:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!
VLADIMIR:
(angrily). No one ever suffers but you. I don't count. I'd like to hear what you'd say if you had what I have.
ESTRAGON:
It hurts?
VLADIMIR:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!
ESTRAGON:
(pointing). You might button it all the same.
VLADIMIR:
(stooping). True. (He buttons his fly.) Never neglect the little things of life.
ESTRAGON:
What do you expect, you always wait till the last moment.
VLADIMIR:
(musingly). The last moment . . . (He meditates.) Hope deferred maketh the something sick, who said that?
ESTRAGON:
Why don't you help me?
VLADIMIR:
Sometimes I feel it coming all the same. Then I go all queer. (He takes off his hat, peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it, puts it on again.) How shall I say? Relieved and at the same time . . . (he searches for the word) . . . appalled. (With emphasis.) AP-PALLED. (He takes off his hat again, peers inside it.) Funny. (He knocks on the crown as though to dislodge a foreign body, peers into it again, puts it on again.) Nothing to be done. (Estragon with a supreme effort succeeds in pulling off his boot. He peers inside it, feels about inside it, turns it upside down, shakes it, looks on the ground to see if anything has fallen out, finds nothing, feels inside it again, staring sightlessly before him.) Well?
(Samuel Beckett)