A Good Newspaper, I Suppose, Is A

Today, [theatre's] More Likely To Be Consciously Not Aimed At The Public, But At A More Sophisticated Or Educated Public. . . . The Result Is That Some Of The Sheer Humanity Has Leaked Out Of The Enterprise.

They Know Your Name, Address, Telephone Number, Credit Card Numbers, Who Else Is Driving The Car "for Insurance", ... Your Driver's License Number. In The State Of Massachusetts, This Is The Same Number As That Used For Social Security, Unless You Object To Such Use. In That Case, You Are Assigned A Number And You Reside Forever More On The List Of "weird People Who Don't Give Out Their Social Security Number In Massachusetts."

The Only Thing You Got In This World Is What You Can Sell. And The Funny Thing Is That You're A Salesman, And You Don't Know That.

I Don't Say He's A Great Man. Willie Loman Never Made A Lot Of Money. His Name Was Never In The Paper. He's Not The Finest Character That Ever Lived. But He's A Human Being, And A Terrible Thing Is Happening To Him. So Attention Must Be Paid. He's Not To Be Allowed To Fall In His Grave Like An Old Dog. Attention, Attention Must Finally Be Paid To Such A Person.

By Whatever Means It Is Accomplished, The Prime Business Of A Play Is To Arouse The Passions Of Its Audience So That By The Route Of Passion May Be Opened Up New Relationships Between A Man And Men, And Between Men And Man. Drama Is Akin To The Other Inventions Of Man In That It Ought To Help Us To Know More, And Not Merely To Spend Our Feelings.