“I know that my works are a credit to this nation and I dare say they will endure longer than the McCarran Act.”

The apple cannot be stuck back on the Tree of Knowledge; once we begin to see, we are doomed and challenged to seek the strength to see more, not less.

The theater is so endlessly fascinating because it’s so accidental. It’s so much like life.

A suicide kills two people, Maggie, that’s what it’s for!

I love her too, but our neuroses just don’t match.

The closer a man approaches tragedy the more intense is his concentration of emotion upon the fixed point of his commitment, which is to say the closer he approaches what in life we call fanaticism.

Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.

The problem was to sustain at any cost the feeling you had in the theater that you were watching a real person, yes, but an intense condensation of his experience, not simply a realistic series of episodes.

You specialize in something until one day you find it is specializing in you.

All we are is a lot of talking nitrogen.

A playwright lives in an occupied country. And if you can’t live that way you don’t stay.

It is my art. I am better at it than I ever was. And I will do it as long as I can. When you reach a certain age you can slough off what is unnecessary and concentrate on what is. And why not?

Where choice begins, Paradise ends, innocence ends, for what is Paradise but the absence of any need to choose this action?

What is the most innocent place in any country? Is it not the insane asylum? These people drift through life truly innocent, unable to see into themselves at all.

He wants to live on through something-and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. all of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.

The job is to ask questions-it always was-and to ask them as inexorably as I can. And to face the absence of precise answers with a certain humility.

A good newspaper, I suppose, is a nation talking to itself.

Because you aren’t afraid to kiss the dirt (and consequently dare to climb the sky)

There is but one coward on earth, and that is the coward that dare not know.

Your love Should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger, Only to someone Who has the valor and daring To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife Then weave them into a blanket To protect you.

Because that’s just the way it is, and don’t sleep on what you did before, you know, because it can not hurt you, but you can find yourself sleeping on something that happened in the past, but you dare to progress and there is always room for progression.

Don’t you dare take what I’m giving away more than willingly, for granted.

How do you expect the Germans to revolt when they don’t even dare walk on the grass?

Success often comes to those who dare to act. It seldom goes to the timid who are ever afraid of the consequences.

Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?