In Practice We, In The World, Must

I Pray You Indulge Me For A Space, For I Am Going To Set Out On A Speech Which May Have Some Duration, But Whose Theme May Be Gleaned From Its Opening Phrase: How Dare You.

I Don't Really Have A Social Life.

A Play Is Basically A Long, Formalistic Polemic. You Can Write It Without The Poetry, And If You Do, You May Have A Pretty Good Play. We Know This Because We See Plays In Translation. Not Many People Speak Norwegian Or Danish Or Whatever Guys Like Ibsen Spoke, Or Russian - Yet We Understand Chekhov And The Others.

To Find Beauty In The Sad, Hope In The Midst Of Loss, And Dignity In Failure Is Great Poetic Art.

If You're Neurotic And You Think, I'm Not Where I Deserve To Be Or My Mother Didn't Love Me, Or Blah, Blah, Blah, That Lie, That Neurotic Vision, Takes Over Your Life And You're Plagued By It 'til It's Cleansed. In A Play, At The End Of The Play, The Lie Is Revealed. [t]he Better The Play Is, The More Surprising And Inevitable The Lie Is, As Aristotle Told Us. Plays Are About Lies.