When I Write Something, Every Word Of

Come On, Say It Again. I'm A Perfect Devil. Tell Me How Bad I Am. It Makes Me Feel So Good!

Goodnight Sweet Prince, May Flights Of Devils Wing You To Your Rest.

The Only Pain In Pleasure Is The Pleasure Of The Pain.

Something In Me Was Responding Now As The Audience Responded, Not In Fear, But In Some Human Way, To The Magic Of That Fragile Painted Set, The Mystery Of The Lighted World There.

All The Stories I Have Told You Are Finally As Useless As All Ancient Knowledge Is To Man And To Us. Its Images And Its Poetry Can Be Beautiful; It Can Make Us Shiver With The Recognition Of Things We Have Always Suspected Or Felt. It Can Draw Us Back To Times When The Earth Was New To Man, And Wondrous. But Always We Come Back To The Way The Earth Is Now.