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

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

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.

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

We must each find our separate meaning in the persuasion of our days until we meet in the meaning of the world.

How can we be scrupulous In a life which, from birth onwards, is so determined To wring us dry of any serenity at all?

The lines marking a penalty area are a disgrace to the playing fields of a public school.