... Vulgarity Has No Nation.

Poor Brain! How Helplessly It Dissolves When Willing Eyes Meet And The Nose Warms To Those Old Jungle Scents.

Life Is An Endless, Truly Endless Struggle. There's No Time When We're Going To Arrive At A Plateau Where The Whole Thing Gets Sorted. It's A Struggle In The Way Every Plant Has To Find It's Own Way To Stand Up Straight. A Lot Of The Time It's A Failure. And Yet It's Not A Failure If Some Enlightenment Comes From It.

The Best Of Our Theater Is Standing On Tiptoe, Striving To See Over The Shoulders Of Father And Mother. The Worst Is Exploiting And Wallowing In The Self-pity Of Adolescence And Obsessive Keyhole Sexuality. The Way Out, As The Poet Says, Is Always Through.

Try To Keep The Rebel Artist Alive In You, No Matter How Attractive Or Exhausting The Temptation.

I'm The End Of The Line; Absurd And Appalling As It May Seem, Serious New York Theater Has Died In My Lifetime.