The Parochial Snobbery Of These People Was

There Is A Problem On The So-called Commercial Stage In New York. The Price Of A Ticket Is Exorbitant, And There Are No Longer Original Productions Possible, Apparently, On The Commercial Stage. They Are All Plays That Were Taken From Either England Or Smaller Theaters, Off-broadway Theaters, And So On. The One Justification There Used To Be For The Commercial Theater Was That It Originated Everything We Had, And Now It Originates Nothing. But The Powers That Be Seem Perfectly Content To Have It That Way. They Don't Risk Anything Anymore, And They Simply Pick Off The Cream.

The Writer Must Be In It; He Can't Be To One Side Of It, Ever. He Has To Be Endangered By It. His Own Attitudes Have To Be Tested In It. The Best Work That Anybody Ever Writes Is The Work That Is On The Verge Of Embarrassing Himself, Always.

Where Choice Begins, Paradise Ends, Innocence Ends, For What Is Paradise But The Absence Of Any Need To Choose This Action?

When A Deposit Bottle Is Broken, You Don't Get Your Nickel Back.

A Child's Spirit Is Like A Child, You Can Never Catch It By Running After It; You Must Stand Still, And, For Love, It Will Soon Itself Come Back.