A poet, any real poet, is simply an alchemist who transmutes his cynicism regarding human beings into an optimism regarding the moon, the stars, the heavens, and the flowers, to say nothing of Spring, love, and dogs.

Politics is the diversion of trivial men who, when they succeed at it, become important in the eyes of more trivial men.

A broken heart is a monument to a love that will never die; fulfillment is a monument to a love that is already on its deathbed.

The path of sound credence is through the thick forest of skepticism.

The dramatic critic who is without prejudice is on the plane with the general who does not believe in taking human life.

Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few.

One does not go to the theater to see life and nature; one goes to see the particular way in which life and nature happen to look to a cultivated, imaginative and entertaining man who happens, in turn, to be a playwright.