Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.

Remember laughter. You'll need it even in the blessed isles of Ever After.

If a playwright tried to see eye to eye with everybody, he would get the worst case of strabismus since Hannibal lost an eye trying to count his nineteen elephants during a snowstorm while crossing the Alps.

In the pathways between office and home and home and the houses of settled people there are always, ready to snap at you, the little perils of routine living, but there is no escape in the unplanned tangent, the sudden turn.

Why do you have to be a nonconformist like everybody else?

Man has gone long enough, or even too long, without being man enough to face the simple truth that the trouble with man is man.

Where most of us end up there is no knowing, but the hellbent get where they are going.