I Cannot Sleep For Dreaming; I Cannot

There Is Unquestionably A Contradiction Between An Efficient Technological Machine And The Flowering Of Human Nature, Of The Human Personality.

A Playwright... Is... The Litmus Paper Of The Arts. He's Got To Be, Because If He Isn't Working On The Same Wave Length As The Audience, No One Would Know What In Hell He Was Talking About.

He's Liked, But He's Not Well Liked.

If You Complain Of People Being Shot Down In The Streets, Of The Absence Of Communication Or Social Responsibility, Of The Rise Of Everyday Violence Which People Have Become Accustomed To, And The Dehumanization Of Feelings, Then The Ultimate Development On An Organized Social Level Is The Concentration Camp... The Concentration Camp Is The Final Expression Of Human Separateness And Its Ultimate Consequence. It Is Organized Abandonment.

Few Occasions Are As Joyous To Small Children As Funerals, Almost Better Than The Big Wedding Blowouts That Take Place At Night When It's Hard To Stay Awake. A Small Boy Will Never Be Harshly Criticized At A Funeral; He Is More Treasured As Death Comes Close And All His Wickedness Vanishes Before The Inescapable Fact That Thank God, He Is Healthy.