I'm the end of the line; absurd and appalling as it may seem, serious New York theater has died in my lifetime.

The need of man to wholly realize himself is the only fixed star.

Poor brain! How helplessly it dissolves when willing eyes meet and the nose warms to those old jungle scents.

Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!

I regard the theatre as a serious business, one that makes or should make man more human, which is to say, less alone.

I think it's a mistake to ever look for hope outside of one's self.

Just remember, kid, you can quicker get back a million dollars that was stole than a word that you gave away.