American Playwright, Writer of Fiction
Tennessee Williams, fully Thomas Lanier "Tennessee" Williams
American Playwright, Writer of Fiction
Luck is believing you’re lucky.
Once you fully apprehend the vacuity of a life without struggle, you are equipped with the basic means of salvation.
Talent? What is talent but the ability to get away with something?
The scene is memory and is therefore nonrealistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart.
Time goes by so fast. Nothing can outrun it. Death commences too early - almost before you're half acquainted with life - you meet the other...
What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof? I wish I knew ...Just staying on it, I guess, as long as she can... More croquet sounds. Later tonight I'm going to tell you I love you an maybe by that time you'll be drunk enough to believe me. Yes, they're playing croquet ...Big Daddy is dying of cancer ...What we're you thinking of when I caught you looking at me like that? We're you thinking of Skipper? Brick crosses to the bar, takes a quick drink, and rubs his head with a towel. Laws of silence don't work ...When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant ....Get dressed, Brick.
You said, 'They’re harmless dreamers and they’re loved by the people.' 'What,' I asked you, 'is harmless about a dreamer, and what,' I asked you, 'is harmless about the love of the people? Revolution only needs good dreamers who remember their dreams.
Luxury is the wolf at the door and its fangs are the vanities and conceits germinated by success. When an artist learns this, he knows where the danger is.
Only animals have to satisfy instincts! Surely your aims are somewhat higher than theirs! Than monkeys! Pigs!
Talk of the devil, and his horns appear
The strongest influences in my life and my work are always whomever I love. Whomever I love and am with most of the time, or whomever I remember most vividly. I think that s true of everyone, don t you?
Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.
What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?—I wish I knew... Just staying on it, I guess, as long as she can...
Youth must be wanton, youth must be quick,
Maggie, we're through with lies and liars in this house. Lock the door.
Physical beauty is passing - a transitory possession - but beauty of the mind, richness of the spirit, tenderness of the heart - I have all these things - aren't taken away but grow! Increase with the years!
That Europe's nothin' on earth but a great big auction, that's all it is.
The theatre is a place where one has time for the problems of people to whom one would show the door if they came to one's office for a job.
To be free is to have achieved your life.
What on earth can you do on this earth but catch at whatever comes near you, with both your fingers, until your fingers are broken?
You've got many refinements. I don't think you need to worry about your failure at long division. I mean, after all, you got through short division, and short division is all that a lady ought to be called on to cope with.
Make voyages! Attempt them . . . there's nothing else.
Q. Do you have any positive message, in your opinion? A. Indeed I do think that I do. Q. Such as what? A. The crying, almost screaming, need of a great worldwide human effort to know ourselves and each other a great deal better, we'll enough to concede that no man has a monopoly on right or virtue any more than any man has a corner on duplicity and evil and so forth. If people, and races and nations, would start with that self manifests truth, then I think that the world could sidestep the sort of corruption which I have involuntarily chosen as the basic, allegorical theme of my plays as a whole.
The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that we're brightly colored but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something. It always came upon me unawares, taking me altogether by surprise. Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass.
The Venus flytrap, a devouring organism, aptly named for the goddess of love.