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.
The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy only the artist the great artist knows how difficult it is.
The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or...
I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live...
All the intelligence and talent in the world can't make a singer. The voice...
Girls are telling me to take my shirt off. It's like, 'Hello! I'm a...
In a sense, there's a great truth to that, but,...
I'm delighted. I don't know of anybody who had a...
