There are some things one remembers even though they may never have happened.
You are in no man’s land. Which never moves, which never changes, which never grows older, but remains forever, icy and silent.
Listen. You know what it’s like when you’re in a room with the light on and then suddenly the light goes out? I’ll show you. It’s like this.”He turns out the light.BLACKOUT
In other words apart from the known and the unknown what else is there?
One way of looking at speech is to say it is a constant stratagem to cover nakedness.
Iraq is just a symbol of the attitude of western democracies to the rest of the world.
Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living.
No one wanted me to be a conscientious objector. My parents certainly didn’t want it. My teacher and mentor, Joe Brearley, didn’t want it. My friends didn’t want it. I was alone.
I mean, don’t forget the earth’s about five thousand million years old, at least. Who can afford to live in the past?
I never think of myself as wise. I think of myself as possessing a critical intelligence which I intend to allow to operate.
I don’t intend to simply go away and write my plays and be a good boy. I intend to remain an independent and political intelligence in my own right.
All I’m saying is that there are many different kinds of political theatre and many plays I greatly admire: ‘Antigone,’ ‘Mother Courage,’ ‘All My Sons.’ But, if I tackle a political theme, I have to do it in my own way.
I wrote ‘The Room’, ‘The Birthday Party’, and ‘The Dumb Waiter’ in 1957, I was acting all the time in a repertory company, doing all kinds of jobs, traveling to Bournemouth and Torquay and Birmingham.
My second play, The Birthday Party, I wrote in 1958 – or 1957. It was totally destroyed by the critics of the day, who called it an absolute load of rubbish.
I certainly feel sad about the alienation from my son.
I found the offer of a knighthood something that I couldn’t possibly accept. I found it to be somehow squalid, a knighthood. There’s a relationship to government about knights.
Clinton’s hands remain incredibly clean, don’t they, and Tony Blair’s smile remains as wide as ever. I view these guises with profound contempt.