Playwrights: Cynicism Uncongealed

We danced with impatience, we yearned for the moon and there we are, suddenly, left all alone, with life yawning ahead like a great black chasm . . . So we weep for two or three years more, very quietly, and then one day, too sick at heart, we die, with no fuss, leaving as little trace on earth as a bird's flight across the sky.

A character named Hero speaks those lines with drawn cynicism in the climactic scene of The Rehearsal, one of the few glittering productions in the dismal new...

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