There is no one so radical as a man-servant whose freedom of the champagne bin has been interfered with.

Before Plato could describe love, the loved one had to be invented. We would never love anybody if we could see past our invention. Bosie is my creation, my poem. In the mirror of invention, love discovered itself.

What a fine persecution—to be kept intrigued without ever quite being enlightened.

I burn with no causes.

Sometimes I watch a scene I've written, and occasionally I think, "Oh, for God's sake, shut up."

I read for interest and enjoyment, and when I cease to enjoy it I stop.

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.