I think we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rearguard attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. To enter into someone else's life is too frightening. To disclose to others the poverty within us is too fearsome a possibility.

There are some good rules and there are some lousy rules.

I believe the US is a truly monstrous force in the world, now off the leash for obvious reasons.

Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living.

Most of the press is in league with government, or with the status quo.

My second play, The Birthday Party, I wrote in 1958 - or 1957. It was totally destroyed by the critics of the day, who called it an absolute load of rubbish.

Nothing is more sterile or lamentable than the man content to live within himself.