You Gotta Have Swine To Show You

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.

I Was Twenty-nine Years Old And I Wasn't A Very Good Poet And I Wasn't A Very Good Novelist, [so] I Thought I Would Try Writing A Play, Which Seems To Have Worked Out A Little Better.

George, Who Is Out Somewhere There In The Dark, Who Is Good To Me - Whom I Revile, Who Can Keep Learning The Games We Play As Quickly As I Can Change Them. Who Can Make Me Happy And I Do Not Wish To Be Happy. And Yes, I Do Wish To Be Happy. George And Martha: Sad, Sad, Sad. Whom I Will Not Forgive For Having Come To Rest; For Having Seen Me And Having Said: “yes, This Will Do”. Who Has Made The Hideous, The Hurting, The Insulting Mistake Of Loving… Me, And Must Be Punished For It. George And Martha… Sad, Sad, Sad.

The Final Evaluation Of A Play Has Nothing To Do With Immediate Audience Or Critical Response.

Well, When I Was Six Years Old I Decided, Not That I Was Going To Be, But With My Usual Modesty, That I Was A Writer.