Eugene O'Neill Quotes
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Her love and tenderness ... gave me the faith in love that enabled me to face my dead at last and write this play-write it with deep pity and understanding and forgiveness for all the four haunted Tyrones.
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To hell with the truth! As the history of the world proves, the truth has no bearing on anything. It's irrelevant and immaterial, as the lawyers say. The lie of a pipe dream is what gives life to the whole misbegotten mad lot of us, drunk or sober.
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When you're 50 you start thinking about things you haven't thought about before. I used to think getting old was about vanity - but actually it's about losing people you love. Getting wrinkles is trivial.
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How thick the fog is. I can't see the road. All the people in the world could pass by and I would never know. I wish it was always that way. It's getting dark already. It will soon be night, thank goodness.
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We are where centuries only count as seconds, and after a thousand lives, our eyes begin to open.
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Why can’t you remember your Shakespeare and forget the third-raters. You’ll find what you’re trying to say in him- as you’ll find everything else worth saying. 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep.'' - 'Fine! That’s beautiful. But I wasn’t trying to say that. We are such stuff as manure is made on, so let’s drink up and forget it. That’s more my idea.
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The only living life is in the past and future - the present is an interlude - strange interlude in which we call on past and future to bear witness that we are living.
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The past is the present, isn’t it? It’s the future too.
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There is no present or future-only the past, happening over and over again-now.
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When men make gods, there is no God!
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It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must be a little in love with death!
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God gave us mouths that close and ears that don't... that should tell us something.
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Curiosity killed the cat.
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What's the use coming home to get the blues over what can't be helped.
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Life is a long drawn out lie, with a sniffling sigh at the end of it.
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Writing is my vacation from living.
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I will be an artist or nothing!
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We are such things as rubbish is made of, so let's drink up and forget it.
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While you are still beautiful and life still woos, it is such a fine gesture of disdainful pride to jilt it.
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I hate doctors! They'll do anything... to keep you coming to them. They'll sell their souls. What's worse, they'll sell yours, and you never know it till one day you find yourself in hell.
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You seem to be going in for sincerity today. It isn't becoming to you, really — except as an obvious pose. Be as artificial as you are, I advise. There's a sort of sincerity in that, you know. And, after all, you must confess you like that better.
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Critics? I love every bone in their heads.
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No dog is as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome.
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Our lives are merely strange dark interludes in the electric display of God the Father.