...an Everlasting Funeral Marches Round Your Heart.

Well, I Spent Six Or Seven Years After High School Trying To Work Myself Up. Shipping Clerk, Salesman, Business Of One Kind Or Another. And It's A Measly Manner Of Existence. To Get On That Subway On The Hot Mornings In Summer. To Devote Your Whole Life To Keeping Stock, Or Making Phone Calls, Or Selling Or Buying. To Suffer Fifty Weeks Of The Year For The Sake Of A Two-week Vacation, When All You Really Desire Is To Be Outdoors, With Your Shirt Off. And Always To Have To Get Ahead Of The Next Fella. And Still — That's How You Build A Future.

It May Be That Even If Half Consciously, We Choose Our Personalities To Maintain A Certain Saving Balance In The Family's Little Universe.

A Playwright... Is... The Litmus Paper Of The Arts. He's Got To Be, Because If He Isn't Working On The Same Wave Length As The Audience, No One Would Know What In Hell He Was Talking About.

People Do Look To Others For Some Leadership, And It's Not Bad For Them To Supply It When They Feel That Way.

Where Choice Begins, Paradise Ends, Innocence Ends, For What Is Paradise But The Absence Of Any Need To Choose This Action?