Words Are Tools Of Imagery In Motion.

When You See The Way Things Deteriorate Before Your Very Eyes. Everything Running Down Hill. It's Kind Of Silly To Even Think About Youth.

In Many Of My Plays, There Was A Kind Of Autobiographical Character In The Form Of A Son Or Young Man. The Purpose Of It, Of Course, Was To Write About Myself. That Character Was Always The Least Fully Realized. Eighteen Years Later, You Realize, That's What He Was About.

I Feel Like I've Never Had A Home, You Know? I Feel Related To The Country, To This Country, And Yet I Don't Know Exactly Where I Fit In... There's Always This Kind Of Nostalgia For A Place, A Place Where You Can Reckon With Yourself.

I Don't Understand My Feelings. I Really Don't. I Don't Understand How I Could Hate You So Much After So Much Time. How, No Matter How Much I'd Like To Not Hate You, I Hate You Even More. It Grows.

There's Gonna Be A General Lack Of Toast In The Neighborhood This Morning.