He Wasn't Smart Enough To

Visions Of One Powerful Scene After Another Parade Across His Inner Screen, Each Exploding With Drama And Meaning

The Most Precious Jewels Are Not Made Of Stone, But Of Flesh.

It Doesn't Bother Me. Sure, Everybody Wants Approval, But I Came From The Theatre And I've Always Treasured A Remark From There Which Goes: 'for Every Six People Who Love You, There Will Be Half A Dozen Who Loathe You.' The Quality Of An Author's Work Is Not Usually Determined Until After His Death. Even Dickens Got Some Pretty Bad Reviews.

Credo Quia Absurdum – I Believe Because It Is Absurd.

Men And Women Walked Casually About As They Did On The Main Floor, Every Now And Then Stopping One Another, Exchanging Pleasantries Or Scraps Of Relevantly Irrelevant Information. Gossip.