"And to meet and part in my sense exceeds the power of feeling, however tender, and of bodily motions, however expert."
Beckett never reduces love to the amalgam of sentimentality and sexuality endorsed by common opinion. Love as a matter of “truth” (and not of opinion) depends upon a pure event: an encounter whose strength radically exceeds both sentimentality and sexuality.
Love offers beauty, nuance, color. It presents what one might call the other or second nocturne, not of the grey darkness of being, but that of the rustling night — the night of leaves and plants, of stars and water. Under the very strict conditions of the encounter and toil, the Two of love splits the dark into the grey darkness of being, on the one hand, and, on the other, the infinitely varied darkness of the sensible world.
This is why in Beckett’s prose one suddenly discovers poems where, under the sign of the inaugural figure of the Two, something unfolds within the night of presentation, that is to say, the unfolding of the multiple as such. Love is, above all, an authorization granted to the multiple, under the never-abolished threat of the grey darkness where the original One bears the torture of its own identification.
http://www.lacan.com/article/?page_id=21
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