The Theater Is So Endlessly

There Is A Kind Of Perverse Unity Forming Among Us, Born, I Think, Of The Discontent Of All Classes Of People With The Endless Frustration Of Life.

The Enemy Is Within, And Within Stays Within, And We Can't Get Out Of Within.

Nobody Dast Blame This Man. For A Salesman, There Is No Rock Bottom To The Life. He Don't Put A Bolt To A Nut, He Don't Tell You The Law Or Give You Medicine. He's A Man Way Out There In The Blue, Riding On A Smile And A Shoeshine. And When They Start Not Smiling Back -- That's An Earthquake. And Then You Get Yourself A Couple Of Spots On Your Hat, And You're Finished. Nobody Dast Blame This Man. A Salesman Is Got To Dream, Boy. It Comes With The Territory.

I Would Be Twenty Before I Learned How To Be Fifteen, Thirty Before I Knew What It Meant To Be Twenty, And Now At Seventy-two I Have To Stop Myself From Thinking Like A Man Of Fifty Who Has Plenty Of Time Ahead.

Above All Else, Tragedy Requires The Finest Appreciation By The Writer Of Cause And Effect.