I have noticed that in plays where the characters on stage laugh a great deal, the people out front laugh very little.

The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in the morning feeling just plain terrible.

Being divorced is like being hit by a Mack truck. If you live through it, you start looking very carefully to the right and to the left.

Even though a number of people have tried, no one has yet found a way to drink for a living.

A lawyer is never entirely comfortable with a friendly divorce, anymore than a good mortician wants to finish his job and then have the patient sit up on the table.

I think if you can write a play, or produce a play, the first step toward success [is] if people don't want to kill themselves in the lobby. Now there must be four or five other steps, but that's the first.

I know all about improvisation and the free-form that mirrors the chaos of our time, but I do like to feel that the playwright has done some work before I got there.