Eugene O'Neill Quotes
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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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Critics? I love every bone in their heads.
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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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When men make gods, there is no God!
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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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It's a great game - the pursuit of happiness.
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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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Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.
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Our lives are merely strange dark interludes in the electric display of God the Father.
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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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We talk about the American Dream, and want to tell the world about the American Dream, but what is that Dream, in most cases, but the dream of material things? I sometimes think that the United States for this reason is the greatest failure the world has ever seen.
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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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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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I will be an artist or nothing!
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Curiosity killed the cat.
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Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The Grace of God is glue.
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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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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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No dog is as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome.
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God gave us mouths that close and ears that don't... that should tell us something.
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What's the use coming home to get the blues over what can't be helped.
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A man's work is in danger of deteriorating when he thinks he has found the one best formula for doing it. If he thinks that, he is likely to feel that all he needs is merely to go on repeating himself . . . so long as a person is searching for better ways of doing his work, he is fairly safe.
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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.