To A Certain Extent I

There Are Two Things That A Playwright Can Have. Success Or Failure. I Imagine There Are Dangers In Both. Certainly The Danger Of Being Faced With Indifference Or Hostility Is Discouraging, And It May Be That Success - Acceptance If It's Too Quick, Too Lightning-quick - Can Turn The Heads Of Some People.

In The Two Or Three Or Four Months That It Takes Me To Write A Play, I Find That The Reality Of The Play Is A Great Deal More Alive For Me Than What Passes For Reality. I'm Infinitely More Involved In The Reality Of The Characters And Their Situation Than I Am In Everyday Life. The Involvement Is Terribly Intense.

I Think You Remember Everything ... You Just Can't Bring It To Mind All The Time.

The One Living Playwright I Admire Without Any Reservation Whatsoever Is Samuel Beckett. I Have Funny Feelings About Almost All The Others.

I Think We Should All Live On The Precipe Of Life, As Fully And As Dangerously As Possible. Everyone Should Make The Assumption That They're Going Through Life Only Once. Tomorrow We Die. Why Not Take Chances, Extend Yourself? How Awful It Is When A Person Comes To The End Of Life Full Of Regret.