You'll Find, My Friend, That

A Play Is Never Finished. You'll Find Out How Much I Mean That When You Read My Last Will And Testament.

Who Knows Better Than Artists How Much Ugliness There Is On The Way To Beauty, How Many Ghastly, Mortifying Missteps, How Many Days Of Granitic Blockheadedness And Dismaying Ineptitude There Is On The Way To Accomplishment, How Partial All Accomplishment Is, How Incomplete?

I'm In An Odd Place Right Now In New York Where I Routinely Get Trashed By Every Daily Drama Critic And Have A Few Allies Among Weekly/monthly Drama Critics, And You Sort Of Plot These Things Out And Figure It Out. But It's Just What Any Writer Goes Through, Periods Of Favor, Periods Of Disfavor. And The Trick Is Just To Keep Writing And To Not Let An Obsession.

You'll Find, My Friend, That What You Love Will Take You Places You Never Dreamed You'd Go.

The White Cracker Who Wrote The National Anthem Knew What He Was Doing. He Set The Word "free" To A Note So High Nobody Could Reach It. That Was Deliberate.