It was a different planet in 1967, the Broadway theatre. It had a little ashtray clamped to the back of every seat and the author got 10% of the gross.

I cannot say that I write with any social objective. One writes because one loves writing, really.

Better a fallen rocket than never a burst of light.

What did you have in mind? A short, blunt human pyramid?

Words, words. They're all we have to go on.

You are an over-excited little man, with a need for self-expression far beyond the scope of your natural gifts. This is not discreditable. Neither does it make you an artist.

Life in a box is better than no life at all... I expect.