The skirts of the gods Drag in our mud. We feel the touch And take it to be a kiss.

What, after all,is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean.

It is the individual man in his individual freedom who can mature with his warm spirit the unripe world.

Day's work is still to do, Whatever the day's doom.

I travel light; as light, that is, as a man can travel who will still carry his body around because of its sentimental value.

The moon is nothing But a circumambulating aphrodisiac Divinely subsidized to provoke the world Into a rising birth-rate

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.