Only some radical change can divert the downward course of my spirit, some startling new place or people to arrest the drift, the drag.

It's interesting, isn't it? . . . the chandelier . . . it reminds me of mushroom soup.

Death is one moment, and life is so many of them.

The process by which the idea for a play comes to me has always been something I really couldn't pinpoint. A play just seems to materialize; like an apparition, it gets clearer and clearer and clearer. It's very vague at first, as in the case of Streetcar, which came after Menagerie. I simply had the vision of a woman in her late youth. She was sitting in a chair all alone by a window with the moonlight streaming in on her desolate face, and she'd been stood up by the man she planned to marry.

Just another four-letter word.

Symbols are nothing but the natural speech of drama.

I talk out the lines as I write them.