It is time that we, who are without kings, took up this bright thread of our history and followed it to the only place it can possibly lead in our time-the heart and spirit of the average man.

He wants to live on through something - and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. All of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.

It may be that even if half consciously, we choose our personalities to maintain a certain saving balance in the family's little universe.

Cleave to no faith when faith brings blood.

Man must shape his tools lest they shape him.

I speak my own sins; I cannot judge another. I have no tongue for it.

The best of our theater is standing on tiptoe, striving to see over the shoulders of father and mother. The worst is exploiting and wallowing in the self-pity of adolescence and obsessive keyhole sexuality. The way out, as the poet says, is always through.