What I Mean By An Educated Taste

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.

One Must Let The Play Happen To One; One Must Let The Mind Loose To Respond As It Will, To Receive Impressions, To Sense Rather Than Know, To Gather Rather Than Immediately Understand.

As A Playwright, I Imagine That In One Fashion Or Another I've Been Influenced By Every Single Play I've Ever Experienced.

The Greatest Problem With Irish Wolfhounds, Though, Is That They Don't Live Very Long: Their Great Hearts Give Out. A Good Deal Of This Is Genetic, Of Course, But I Think It Is In Part That They Worry So For Us, Care So Much.

If You Have No Wounds, How Can You Know If You're Alive?