The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with its many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Exact Opposite of Being Ignored: Playwrights at the O'Neill
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In July 2025, beginning playwrights assembled at the Eugene O'Neill
Theater Center in Waterford, Connecticut for the 60th straight year (though
in Covid P...
1 week ago
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