After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.

Whoever is writing in the United States is using the American Dream as an ironical pole of his story. People elsewhere tend to accept, to a far greater degree anyway, that the conditions of life are hostile to mans pretensions.

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!

Sometimes...it's better for a man just to walk away. But if you can't walk away? I guess that's when it's tough.

A playwright... is... the litmus paper of the arts. He's got to be, because if he isn't working on the same wave length as the audience, no one would know what in hell he was talking about.

If you analyse anything, you destroy it.

The brain heals the past like an injury.