When I Was Young, I Observed That

Most Of My Recent Plays Were Written In The Railway Train Between Hatfield And Kings Cross. I Write Anywhere, On The Top Of Omnibuses Or Wherever I May Be; It Is All The Same To Me.

The Seven Deadly Sins... Food, Clothing, Firing, Rent, Taxes, Respectability And Children. Nothing Can Lift Those Seven Millstones From Man's Neck But Money; And The Spirit Cannot Soar Until The Millstones Are Lifted.

It Exasperated Her To Think That The Dungeon In Which She Had Languished For So Many Unhappy Years Had Been Unlocked All The Time, And That The Impulses She Had So Carefully Struggled With And Stifled For The Sake Of Keeping Well With Society, Were Precisely Those By Which Alone She Could Have Come Into Any Sort Of Sincere Human Contact.

In The Middle Ages People Believed That The Earth Was Flat, For Which They Had At Least The Evidence Of Their Senses: We Believe It To Be Round, Not Because As Many As 1 Percent Of Us Could Give Physical Reasons For So Quaint A Belief, But Because Modern Science Has Convinced Us That Nothing That Is Obvious Is True, And That Everything That Is Magical, Improbable, Extraordinary, Gigantic, Microscopic, Heartless, Or Outrageous Is Scientific.

My Father Must Have Had Some Elementary Education For He Could Read And Write And Keep Accounts Inaccurately