I don't say he's a great man. Willie Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He's not the finest character that ever lived. But he's a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He's not to be allowed to fall in his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.

But we are mostly what we are, and the turtle stretching toward delicious buds on high does not lighten his carapace by his resolve.

The mission of the theatre, after all, is to change, to raise the consciousness of people to their human possibilities.

One had the right to write because other people needed news of the inner world, and if they went too long without such news they would go mad with the chaos of their lives.

A small man can be just as exhausted as a great man.

Where choice begins, Paradise ends, innocence ends, for what is Paradise but the absence of any need to choose this action?

PROCTOR, his mind wild, breathless: I say--I say--God is dead!