My mind gets into a verbal mode.

They loved, and quarreled, and made up, and loved, and fought, and were true to each other and untrue. She made him the happiest man in the whole world and the most wretched, and after a few years she died, and then, when he was thirty, he died, too. But by that time Catullus had invented the love poem.

Of all forms of fiction, autobiography is the most gratuitous.

We're actors. We're the opposite of people.

From principles is derived probability, but truth or certainty is obtained only from facts.

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

In January 1962, when I was the author of one and a half unperformed plays, I attended a student production of 'The Birthday Party' at the Victoria Rooms in Bristol. Just before it began, I realised that Harold Pinter was sitting in front of me.