Until an hour before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in Heaven.

There is a problem on the so-called commercial stage in New York. The price of a ticket is exorbitant, and there are no longer original productions possible, apparently, on the commercial stage. They are all plays that were taken from either England or smaller theaters, off-Broadway theaters, and so on. The one justification there used to be for the commercial theater was that it originated everything we had, and now it originates nothing. But the powers that be seem perfectly content to have it that way. They don't risk anything anymore, and they simply pick off the cream.

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.

A lot of my work goes to the center of where we belong--if there is any root to life -because nowadays the family is broken up, and people don't live in the same place for very long.

People do look to others for some leadership, and it's not bad for them to supply it when they feel that way.

The task of the real intellectual consists of analyzing illusions in order to discover their causes.

Certainly the most diverse, if minor, pastime of literary life is the game of Find the Author.