In my plays I want to look at life at the commonplace of existence as if we had just turned a corner and run into it for the first time.
Where in this small-talking world can I find A longitude with no platitude?
Life is a hypocrite if I can't live the way it moves me.
My trouble is I'm the sort of writer who only finds out what he's getting at by the time he's got to the end of it.
How can a man learn navigation Where there's no rudder?
In our plain defects we already know the brotherhood of man.