My second play, The Birthday Party, I wrote in 1958 - or 1957. It was totally destroyed by the critics of the day, who called it an absolute load of rubbish. — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
Nothing is more sterile or lamentable than the man content to live within himself. — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
“ I know the place I know the place. It is true. Everything we do Corrects the space Between death and me And you.” — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
“DEELEY: Myself I was a student then, juggling with my future, wondering should I bejasus saddle myself with a slip of a girl not… — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
I've never been able to understand what they mean by 'Pinteresque,'. I'm sure it's indefinable. — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
A character on stage who can present no convincing argument or information as to his past experience, his present behaviour or his aspirations, nor… — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
I'll tell you what I really think about politicians. The other night I watched some politicians on television talking about Vietnam. I wanted very… — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
Be careful how you talk about God. He's the only God we have. If you let him go he won't come back. He won't… — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
“What sound was that? I turn away, into the shaking room. What was that sound that came in on the dark? What is this… — Harold Pinter Copy Share Image
