Even Money, Which Shines So Much, Spits

Theatre Is Poetry That Rises From The Book And Becomes Human Enough To Talk And Shout, Weep And Despair

The Artist, And Particularly The Poet, Is Always An Anarchist In The Best Sense Of The Word. He Must Heed Only The Call That Arises Within Him From Three Strong Voices: The Voice Of Death, With All Its Foreboding, The Voice Of Love And The Voice Of Art.

Even Money, Which Shines So Much, Spits Sometimes.

To Burn With Desire And Keep Quiet About It Is The Greatest Punishment We Can Bring On Ourselves.

To See You Naked Is To Recall The Earth.