When One Controls Form, One

Dashed Hopes And Good Intentions. Good, Better, Best, Bested.

I Find That In The Course Of The Day When I'm Writing, After Three Or Four Hours Of Intense Work, I Have A Splitting Headache, And I Have To Stop. Because The Involvement, Which Is Both Creative And Self-critical, Is So Intense That I've Got To Stop Doing It.

Being Different Is ... Interesting; There's Nothing Implicitly Inferior Or Superior About It. Great Difference, Of Course, Produces Natural Caution; And If The Differences Are Too Extreme ... Well, Then, Reality Tends To Fade Away.

Arthur Miller Once Payed Me A Great Compliment Saying That My Plays Were 'necessary.' I Will Go One Step Further And Say That Arthur's Plays Are 'essential'

You...you've Been Here Quite A Long Time, Haven't You?" What? Oh...yes. Ever Since I Married What's-her-name. Uh, Martha. Even Before That. Forever. Dashed Hopes, And Good Intentions. Good, Better, Best, Bested. How Do You Like That For A Declension, Young Man?