Passion, You See, Can Be Destroyed By

It Is Very, Very Difficult For A Playwright To Write A Scene In Which A Young Man Has His First Deep Experience Of Sex With A Girl Whom He Found Immensely Attractive, Is Fully Satisfied By This Event And Gets Up And Blinds A Lot Of Horses.

He'll Be Delivered From Madness. What Then? He'll Feel Himself Acceptable! What Then? Do You Think Feelings Like His Can Be Simply Re-attached, Like Plasters? Stuck On To Other Objects We Select? Look At Him! ... My Desire Might Be To Make This Boy An Ardent Husband - A Caring Citizen - A Worshipper Of Abstract And Unifying God. My Achievement, However, Is More Likely To Make A Ghost!

Look... To Go Through Life And Call It Yours - Your Life - You First Have To Get Your Own Pain. Pain That's Unique To You. You Can't Just Dip Into The Common Bin And Say 'that's Enough!'.

Everything We Feel Is Made Of Time. All The Beauties Of Life Are Shaped By It.

Tragedy, For Me, Is Not A Conflict Between Right And Wrong, But Between Two Different Kinds Of Right.