"I owe him (Lindon) my encounter with Samuel Beckett. One day he said, "He'd like to meet you." I was thrilled at the prospect. We made an appointment at a restaurant, Chez Francis. As is my custom, I arrived half an hour early, taking a seat in a corner without noticing the elegant man seated across the terrace. An hour went by. I wondered if I had been told the wrong day or time. I looked at my watch, and that was when I saw him looking at his. Our eyes met, and we smiled at the same moment. I got up and went over to him. We shook hands. I sat down across from him and waited respectfully for him to initiate the conversation. He waited too. I don't know how long the silence lasted, but I do remember it was he who broke it. Delicately, as if in a whisper, he began to talk - but not about himself or about me. The manuscript of Molloy had just been returned to him, and he realized that the epigraph had been omitted from the printed book. "It was a simple phrase: 'in desperation.'" He fell silent again. We sat there for an hour, silent but not mute." - Elie Wiesel in his Memoir, All Rivers Run to the Sea