I don't really have a system or set of principles. It's kind of common sense mixed up with instinct.

I doubt that art needed Ruskin any more than a moving train needs one of its passengers to shove it.

I like plays where people talk a lot. Conversation is sustained. Argument is sustained.

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.

For all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.

When people discuss his plays, he says that he feels like he's standing at customs watching an official ransack his luggage. He cheerfully declares responsibility for a play about two people, and suddenly the officer is finding all manner of exotic contraband like the nature of God and identity, and while he can't deny that they're there, he can't for the life of him remember putting them there. In the end, a play is not the product of an idea; an idea is the product of a play.

Each move is dictated by the previous one--that is the meaning of order