Well, when I was six years old I decided, not that I was going to be, but with my usual modesty, that I was a writer.

I discover that I am thinking about a play, which is the first awareness I have that a new play is forming. When I'm aware of the play forming in my head, it's already at a certain degree in development.

A rather ugly thing starts happening: the playwright finds himself knocked down for works that quite often are just as good or better than the works he's been praised for previously. And a lot of playwrights become confused by this and they start doing imitations of what they've done before, or they try to do something entirely different, in which case they get accused by the same critics of not doing what they used to do so well.

Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf means who's afraid of the big bad wolf ... who's afraid of living life without false illusions.

Art is nowhere near as dangerous as it should be.

Few sensible authors are happy discussing the creative process--it is, after all, black magic.

Progress is a set of assumptions.