Progress Is A Set Of Assumptions.

George, Who Is Out Somewhere There In The Dark, Who Is Good To Me - Whom I Revile, Who Can Keep Learning The Games We Play As Quickly As I Can Change Them. Who Can Make Me Happy And I Do Not Wish To Be Happy. And Yes, I Do Wish To Be Happy. George And Martha: Sad, Sad, Sad. Whom I Will Not Forgive For Having Come To Rest; For Having Seen Me And Having Said: “yes, This Will Do”. Who Has Made The Hideous, The Hurting, The Insulting Mistake Of Loving… Me, And Must Be Punished For It. George And Martha… Sad, Sad, Sad.

Good Writers Define Reality; Bad Ones Merely Restate It.

The Difference Between Critics And Audiences Is That One Is A Group Of Humans And One Is Not.

The Playwright, Along With Any Writer, Composer, Painter In This Society, Has Got To Have A Terribly Private View Of His Own Value, Of His Own Work. He's Got To Listen To His Own Voice Primarily. He's Got To Watch Out For Fads, For What Might Be Called The Critical Aesthetics.

There May Be Lots Of Questions That Anybody - An Actor Or A Director Or Anybody - Can Ask About A Character In A Play Of Mine That Are Not Answered In The Play, But If It's A Question That I Don't Think Is Relevant, I Don't Bother About It. There's No Reason To Ask It.