说不出
I cannot tell why this heart languishes in silence. It is for small needs it never asks, or knows, or remembers.
I prefer women with a past. They are always so damned amusing to talk to.
I'm the reason your mouth won't speak.
I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.
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