"I had seen faces in photographs I might have found beautiful had I known even vaguely in what beauty was supposed to consist. And my father's face, on his death-bolster, had seemed to hint at some form of aesthetics relevant to man. But the faces of the living, all grimace and flush, can they be described as objects?"

Source: Samuel Beckett (2007). “The Complete Short Prose of Samuel Beckett, 1929-1989”, p.55, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.