When I am asked: “Why do you write plays?” I always feel very embarrassed, and am at a loss for an answer. It seems to me sometimes that I started to write for the theatre because I hated it. I read literary works and essays, or went to the movies with pleasure. From time to time I listened to music, or visited art galleries; but for all practical purposes I never went to the theatre.

When, quite by chance, I saw a play, it was in order to accompany someone, or because I had not been able to refuse an invitation, because I had been obliged to go.

I derived no pleasure from it, and did not participate in it. The playing of the actors disturbed me: I was embarrassed for them. The situations seemed arbitrary to me. There was something false in it all, I thought.