My Sense Of Reality And Logic Is

Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf Means Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf ... Who's Afraid Of Living Life Without False Illusions.

In The Theater, Which Is A Sort Of Jungle, One Does Have To Be A Little Bit Careful. One Mustn't Be So Rigid Or Egotistical To Think That Every Comma Is Sacrosanct. But At The Same Time There Is The Danger Of Losing Control And Finding That Somebody Else Has Opened A Play And Not You.

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

Maybe It's A Little More Pertinent Now Since The Whole Concept Of Evolution Is Being Questioned By The Know-nothing Republican Right. Yes, Maybe The Play's A Little More Pertinent Now.

You Want To Dance With Me, Angel Tits?