Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person.

attempting to find in motion what was lost in space.

You take it for granted that I am in something that I want to get out of.

We're all of us guinea pigs in the laboratory of God. Humanity is just a work in progress.

And it was about then, about that time, that I began to find life unsatisfactory as an explanation of itself and was forced to adopt the method of the artist of not explaining but putting the blocks together in some other way that seems more significant to him. Which is a rather fancy way of saying I started writing.

Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.

Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental. It is not realistic.