““TYRONE [ Stares at him -- impressed. ] Yes, there's the makings of a poet in you all right. [ Then protesting uneasily ] But that's morbid craziness about not being wanted and loving death. EDMUND [ Sardonically ] The makings of a poet. No, I'm afraid I'm like the guy who is always panhandling for a smoke. He hasn't even got the makings. He's got only the habit. I couldn't touch what I tried to tell you just now. I just stammered. That's the best I'll ever do, I mean, if I live. Well, it will be faithful realism, at least. Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people.””