Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.

I want you to try and remember what it was like to have been very young. And particularly the days when you were first in love; when you were like a person sleepwalking, and you didn’t quite see the street you were in, and didn’t quite hear everything that was said to you. You’re just a little bit crazy. Will you remember that, please?

There are the stars--doing their old, old crisscross journeys in the sky. Scholars haven't settled the matter yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings out there. Just chalk... or fire. Only this one is straining away, straining away all the time to make something of itself. Strain's so bad that every sixteen hours everybody lies down and gets a rest.

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Money is like manure; it's not worth a thing unless it's spread around encouraging young things to grow.

We live in what is, but we find a thousand ways not to face it. Great theater strengthens our faculty to face it.

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.