Margot (midnight_birth) wrote in margot_quotes,

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee.


Title: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Author: Edward Albee.
Genre: Fiction, literature, play, dark humour, mental health.
Country: U.S.
Language: English.
Publication Date: October 13, 1962.
Summary: A dark comedy that portrays husband and wife George and Martha entertaining a visiting couple, Nick and Honey, in a searing night of dangerous fun and games. By the evening’s end, a stunning, almost unbearable revelation provides a climax that has shocked audiences for years.

My rating: 7/10.
My Review:

GEORGE: (returning to the portable bar) But the years have brought to Martha a sense of essentials... the knowledge that cream is for coffee, lime juice for pies, and alcohol (Brings MARTHA her drink) pure and simple... here you are, angel... for the pure and simple. (Raises his glass) For the mind's blind eye, the heart's ease, and the liver's craw. Down the hatch, all.

NICK: What I mean is... you two... you and your wife... seem to be having some sort of a...
GEORGE: Martha and I are having... nothing. Martha and I are merely... exercising... that's all... we're merely walking what's left of our wits.

GEORGE: I am a Doctor. A.B.... M.A.... Ph.D.... ABMAPHID! Abmaphid has been variously described as a wasting disease of the frontal lobes, and as a wonder drug. It is actually both.

MARTHA: (Sternly, to HONEY) Some people feed on the calamities of others.

NICK: Yessirree. (Rubs his hands together) Well, now, I'd just better get her of in a corner and mount her like a goddamn dog, eh?
GEORGE: Why, you'd certainly better.
NICK: (Looks at GEORGE a minute, his expression a little sick) You know, I almost think you're serious.
GEORGE: (Toasting him) No, baby... you almost think you're serious, and it scares the hell out of you.

NICK: (With sudden vehemence) UP YOURS!
GEORGE: (Brief pause) Hm?
NICK: (Threatening) You heard me!
GEORGE: (At NICK, not to him) You take the trouble to construct a civilization... to... to build a society, based on the principles of... of principle... you endeavor to make communicable sense out of natural order, morality out of the unnatural disorder of a man's mind... you make government and art, and realize that they are, must be, both the same... you bring things to the saddest of all points... to the point where there is something to lose... then all at once, through all the music through all the sensible sounds of men building, attempting, comes the Dies Irae. And what is it What does the trumpet sound? Up yours. I suppose there's justice to it, after all the years... Up yours.

MARTHA: Daddy White Mouse; do you really have red eyes? Do you? Let me see. Ohhhhh! You do! You do! Daddy, you have red eyes... because you cry all the time, don't you, Daddy? Yes; you do. You cry alllll the time. I'LL GIVE ALL YOU BASTARDS FIVE TO COME OUT FROM WHERE YOU'RE HIDING! (Pause) I cry all the time too, Daddy. I cry alllll the time; but deep inside, so no one can see me. I cry all the time. And Georgie cries all the time, too. We both cry all the time, and then, what do we do, we cry, and we take our tears, and we put 'em in the icebox, in the goddamn ice trays (Begins to laugh) until they're frozen (Laughs even more) and then... we put them... in our... drinks.

NICK: You're all crazy: nuts.
MARTHA: (Affects a brogue) Awww, 'tis the refuge we take when the unreality of the world weighs too heavy on our tiny heads. (Normal voice again) Relax; sink into it; you're no better than anybody else.

MARTHA: George who is out somewhere there in the dark... George who is good to me, and whom I revile; who understands me, and whom I push off; who can make me laugh, and I choke it back in my throat; who can hold me, at night, so that it's warm, and whom I will bite so there's blood; who keeps earning the games we play as quickly as I can change the rules; who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy, and, yes, I do wish to be happy. George and Martha: sad, sad, sad.

MARTHA: (Pleasing) Truth and illusion, George; you don't know the difference.
GEORGE: No, but we must carry on as though we did.

MARTHA: Lesser states can't stand those above them. Weakness, imperfection cries out against strength, goodness, and innocence.
Tags: 1960s - fiction, 1960s - plays, 20th century - fiction, 20th century - plays, american - fiction, american - plays, fiction, humour (fiction), literature, mental health (fiction), plays

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