How Can The Unknown Merit Reverence?

A Writer's Life Is A Highly Vulnerable, Almost Naked Activity. We Don't Have To Weep About That. The Writer Makes His Choice And Is Stuck With It. But It Is True To Say That You Are Open To All The Winds, Some Of Them Icy Indeed. You Are Out On Your Own, Out On A Limb. You Find No Shelter, No Protection - Unless You Lie - In Which Case Of Course You Have Constructed Your Own Protection And, It Could Be Argued, Become A Politician.

I Believe The Us Is A Truly Monstrous Force In The World, Now Off The Leash For Obvious Reasons.

The Crimes Of The U.s. Throughout The World Have Been Systematic, Constant, Clinical, Remorseless, And Fully Documented But Nobody Talks About Them.

One's Life Has Many Compartments.

Watching First Nights, Though I've Seen Quite A Few By Now, Is Never Any Better. It's A Nerve-racking Experience. It's Not A Question Of Whether The Play Goes Well Or Badly. It's Not The Audience Reaction, It's My Reaction. I'm Rather Hostile Toward Audiences—i Don't Much Care For Large Bodies Of People Collected Together. Everyone Knows That Audiences Vary Enormously; It's A Mistake To Care Too Much About Them. The Thing One Should Be Concerned With Is Whether The Performance Has Expressed What One Set Out To Express In Writing The Play. It Sometimes Does.