For a long time I managed to think two things simultaneously, that I am actually a good playwright, and that the next time I write a play I will be revealed as someone who is no good at all.

I don't write at the library, because I smoke when I work or would like the possibility of a smoke. Also, I need to be at my own desk.

I'm going to be dead before I read the books I'm going to read.

My whole life is waiting for the questions to which I have prepared answers.

"The [London] Times" has published no rumours; it's only reported facts, namely that other, less responsible papers are publishing certain rumours.

I consider myself to be a very fortunate person and to have led a very fortunate life.

What are a friend's books for if not to be borrowed?