The Ultimate Judgment Of A Work Of

I Don't Think I've Ever Written About Me. I'm Not A Character In Any Of My Plays, Except That Boy, That Silent Boy That Turns Up In Three Tall Women.

I Think I Was Probably Wondering, Having Looked At Human Beings For A Long Time, Wondering If Evolution Ever Took Place. And I Still Have My Doubts.

If You Have No Wounds, How Can You Know If You're Alive?

I Discover That I Am Thinking About A Play, Which Is The First Awareness I Have That A New Play Is Forming. When I'm Aware Of The Play Forming In My Head, It's Already At A Certain Degree In Development.

And The West, Encumbered By Crippling Alliances, And Hardened With A Morality Too Rigid To Accommodate Itself To The Swing Of Events, Must ..... Eventually ..... Fall.