We are always in our own company.
We won't die secret deaths anymore. The world only spins forward. We will be citizens. The time has come. Bye now. You are fabulous creatures, each and every one. And I bless you: More Life. The Great Work Begins.
If you [c]annot find your [h]eart's desire in your own backyard, you never lost it to begin with
I love reading; it's a great way to avoid writing.
One wants to move through life with elegance and grace, blossoming infrequently but with exquisite taste, and perfect timing, like a rare bloom, a zebra orchid. . . One wants. . . But one so seldom gets what one wants, does one?
I have kind of an almost religious feeling about poets. I usually refuse to meet them because I admire them so much. Except for Poe.
Justice precedes beauty. Without justice, beauty is impossible, an obscenity. And when beauty has gone, what does a cameraman do with his eye?
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood, The holy name of Grief--holy herein, That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
Acting is about people. Other people. Otherwise, you're not acting, you're doing monologues.
The holidays stress people out so much. I suggest you keep it simple and try to have as much fun as you can.
As a dramatist, I don't have politics.