I'll Tell You A Secret. We Live

Out Of The Seventy Movies I've Written Some Ten Of Them Were Not Entirely Waste Product.

When You Overpay Small People You Frighten Them. They Know That Their Merits Or Activities Entitle Them To No Such Sums As They Are Receiving. As A Result Their Boss Soars Out Of Economic Into Magic Significance.

They're A Symbol Of The Whole Town, Pretending To Fight, Love, Weep And Laugh All The Time - And They're Phonies, All Of Them. And I Head The List...their Phony Hearts Were Dripping With The Milk Of Human Kindness.

Three Years Ago, The White Hope Of The Theatre. Today, A Mug. That's New York For You. Puts You On A Christmas Tree, And Then - The Alley.

Television Excites Me Because It Seems To Be The Last Stamping Ground Of Poetry, The Last Place Where I Hear Women's Hair Rhapsodically Described, Women's Faces Acclaimed In Odelike Language.