My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience.

Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.

Neither way is better. / Both ways are necessary. / It is also necessary / To make a choice between them.

Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow

The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonored shroud.

The circle of our understanding is a very restricted area.