Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.

When I stop working the rest of the day is posthumous. I'm only really alive when I'm writing.

It is almost as if you were frantically constructing another world while the world that you live in dissolves beneath your feet, and that your survival depends on completing this construction at least one second before the old habitation collapses.

And it was about then, about that time, that I began to find life unsatisfactory as an explanation of itself and was forced to adopt the method of the artist of not explaining but putting the blocks together in some other way that seems more significant to him. Which is a rather fancy way of saying I started writing.

At the age of fourteen I discovered writing as an escape from a world of reality in which I felt acutely uncomfortable.

There is no pleasure in the world like writing well and going fast.

I cannot write any sort of story unless there is at least one character in it for whom I have physical desire.

I believe the way to write a good play is to convince yourself it is easy to do, then go ahead and do it with ease.

It's hard enough for me to write what I want to write without me trying to write what you say they want me to write which I don't want to write.