https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/97/08/03/reviews/20046.html
In no way could he ever be considered an optimist. In an often repeated story, on a glorious sunny day he walked jauntily through a London park with an old friend and exuded a feeling of joy. The friend said it was the kind of day that made one glad to be alive. Beckett responded, 'I wouldn't go that far.'''
