A high station in life is earned by the gallantry with which appalling experiences are survived with grace.

The only unforgivable sin is deliberate cruelty.

Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness.

When I stop working the rest of the day is posthumous. I'm only really alive when I'm writing.

What shouldn't you do if you're a young playwright? Don't bore the audience! I mean, even if you have to resort to totally arbitrary killing on stage, or pointless gunfire, at least it'll catch their attention and keep them awake. Just keep the thing going any way you can.

Oh, you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace. What you need is someone to take hold of you--gently, with love, and hand your life back to you, like something gold you let go of--and I can! I'm determined to do it--and nothing's more determined than a cat on a tin roof--is there?