The Writer, An Old Man

You Can Make A Killing As A Playwright In America, But You Can't Make A Living.

Those Who Are To Follow The Arts Should Have A Training In What Is Called Poverty. Given A Comfortable Middle-class Start In Life, The Artist Is Almost Sure To End Up By Becoming A Bellyacher, Constantly Complaining Because The Public Does Not Rush Forward At Once To Proclaim Him.

Friends You Have, People You Love, Die And Are Born Again.

Above All Avoid Taking The Advice Of Men Who Have No Brains And Do Not Know What They Are Talking About.

In The Beginning When The World Was Young There Were A Great Many Thoughts But No Such Thing As Truth. Man Made The Truths Himself And Each Truth Was A Composite Of A Great Many Vague Thoughts. All About In The World Were Truths And They Were All Beautiful.