Disease, a simple famine, plagues of locusts everywhere, or a cataclysmic earthquake, I'd accept with some despair, but no, you sent us Congress! Good God, Sir, was that fair?

When talking about unicorns, minotaurs, or compassionate conservatives, one does not normally have to prove their non-existence; the mere lack of any evidence is sufficient reason not to believe in any of them.

Musicals are written and then rewritten. Those things used to happen on the road. Now they are done in New York during preview performances.

Disease, a simple famine, plagues of locusts everywhere, or a cataclysmic earthquake, I'd accept with some despair, but no, you sent us Congress! Good God, Sir, was that fair?

For writers that rehearsal period is death. It is the most destructive thing of all to a script.

It seems to me that everybody who's a success has made a decision to put themselves in a situation that eats away at their privacy. Their hours just don't end. Now, with actors it's extreme, because their privacy is almost nonexistent.

At early previews, the theater gossips are there, wishing you ill every night. They don't grant you any slack. Agents are in from Hollywood. Your friends are there. People who are going to spread the word-of-mouth. If something doesn't work, everyone will know.