The Skirts Of The Gods Drag In

One Day I Shall Burst My Bud Of Calm And Blossom Into Hysteria.

If We Could Wake Each Morning With No Memory Of Living Before We Went To Sleep, We Might Arrive At A Faultless Day.

My Trouble Is I'm The Sort Of Writer Who Only Finds Out What He's Getting At By The Time He's Got To The End Of It.

In My Plays I Want To Look At Life At The Commonplace Of Existence As If We Had Just Turned A Corner And Run Into It For The First Time.

Where In This Small-talking World Can I Find A Longitude With No Platitude?