Anything You Put In A Play --

If The Playwright Is Strong Enough To Hold On To Reasonable Objectivity In The Face Of Either Hostility Or Praise, He'll Do His Work The Way He Was Going To Anyway.

All Plays Are Social Comment To One Extent Or Another.

Being Different Is ... Interesting; There's Nothing Implicitly Inferior Or Superior About It. Great Difference, Of Course, Produces Natural Caution; And If The Differences Are Too Extreme ... Well, Then, Reality Tends To Fade Away.

George, Who Is Out Somewhere There In The Dark, Who Is Good To Me - Whom I Revile, Who Can Keep Learning The Games We Play As Quickly As I Can Change Them. Who Can Make Me Happy And I Do Not Wish To Be Happy. And Yes, I Do Wish To Be Happy. George And Martha: Sad, Sad, Sad. Whom I Will Not Forgive For Having Come To Rest; For Having Seen Me And Having Said: “yes, This Will Do”. Who Has Made The Hideous, The Hurting, The Insulting Mistake Of Loving… Me, And Must Be Punished For It. George And Martha… Sad, Sad, Sad.

I Don't Feel That Catharsis In A Play Necessarily Takes Place During The Course Of A Play. Often It Should Take Place Afterward.