[…] as playwright Alan Bennett remarks, ‘You don't put yourself in your screenplays. You find yourself there.’ That, surely, is a paradox of Kaufmanesque dimensions.
You want ketchup or somesing?
Whatever the origin of her walks on the Budmouth Road, her return from those walks was often coincident with Farfrae’s emergence from Corn Street for a twenty minutes’ blow on that rather windy highway―just to winnow the seeds and chaff out of him before sitting down to tea, as he said.
He did not belong to the school of thought that believed Jackson Pollock to be much of an artist.
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