Wit and Wisdom of the ‘80s

QUOTES OF THE YEAR: John Frohnmayer of Portland, Ore., new chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, after reversing his decision to de-fund an art exhibit on AIDS because it was too political: “The word political , I’m coming to see, means something different in Portland than it does in Washington, D.C.”

Michael Walsh in “Andrew Lloyd Webber: His Life and Works” (Abrams, Inc., 1989): “The fact was that Lloyd Webber was an agglutinative composer, not a thief. Inhabiting that strange twilight zone between amateurism and expertise, he could not honestly tell when a tune sounded right because it sounded right or because he heard it somewhere else before.”

Simon McCudden, site supervisor at the London dig for the foundations of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre: “It was my decision how far down to go with the cutting machine. Another foot and we’d have chopped right through it, and my career as an archeologist would have been over.”

David Hays, lighting designer: “Today we seem to need half again the brilliance we needed 25 years ago, just as we need half again the volume of sound. That’s the way it is.”

Roger Stevens, Broadway producer: “Personally, I think it is a theatrical coup to have Herman Wouk’s permission to adapt ‘Marjorie Morningstar’ for a Broadway musical.”

Lyle Kessler, playwright (“Orphans”): “Survival in the theater is just the most amazing thing. I know a lot of playwrights, they get bruised and they disappear. You gotta build up existential muscles to survive.”

Friedrich Durrenmatt, playwright, in a speech at Bonn University: “Words can become dangerous. The word fatherland has become dangerous in this country.”

Ruby Dee, black actress, on taking on the role of Amanda Wingfield in the Arena Stage production of “The Glass Menagerie”: “It’s just a woman, you know.”

Michael Serrecchia, dancer, of his experience in the original company of “A Chorus Line”: “A show will never become my life again. We were bled dry.”

Samuel Beckett, playwright, 1906-1989. From his last published work, “Stirrings Still”: “A clock afar struck the hours and half-hours. The same as when among others Darly once died and left him. Strokes now clear as if carried by a wind now faint on the still air. Cries afar now faint now clear. Head on hands half hoping when the hour struck that the half-hour would not and half fearing that it would not. Similarly when the half-hour struck. Similarly when the cries a moment ceased. Or merely wondering. Or merely waiting. Waiting to hear.”