Nothing happened...twice...

I can't think of anything to add to that. Words seem superfluous. I can't go on. I'll go on...E@L puts it very well in 'Happy Birthday Sam!'...

"He (Beckett)is sort of anti Kilgore Trout, Vonnegut’s mythical writer who had consistently brilliant story ideas but just couldn’t write for nuts. Beckett could write better than anyone but he seemed to fizzle out in frustration when it came to the actual narrative - it was as if plot, story, etc, was beneath him. He just didn’t like to write that way. If he had been born another time without the influence of modernism, he might have been another Dickens, Dostoyevsky, Shakespeare, Dorothy L Sayers, who knows."

Nice extemporizing E@L.