Eugene O'Neill's autobiographical play Long Day's Journey into Night is regarded as his finest work. First published by Yale University Press in 1956, it won the Pulitzer Prize in 1957 and has since sold more than one million copies. This edition, which includes a new foreword by Harold Bloom,... read more
That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.Highlighted by 46 Kindle customers
As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must always be a little in love with death!Highlighted by 45 Kindle customers
The past is the present, isn’t it? It’s the future, too. We all try to lie out of that but life won’t let us.Highlighted by 42 Kindle customers
But I suppose life has made him like that, and he can’t help it. None of us can help the things life has done to us. They’re done before you realize it, and once they’re done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you’d like to be, and you’ve lost your true self forever.Highlighted by 42 Kindle customers
For a second you see—and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning! Then the hand lets the veil fall and you are alone, lost in the fog again, and you stumble on toward nowhere, for no good reason!Highlighted by 41 Kindle customers
It hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel that everything has changed, and nothing is what it seemed to be. No one can find or touch you any more.Highlighted by 39 Kindle customers
The dead part of me hopes you won’t get well. Maybe he’s even glad the game has got Mama again! He wants company, he doesn’t want to be the only corpse around the house!Highlighted by 36 Kindle customers
He can’t help being what the past has made him. Any more than your father can. Or you. Or I.Highlighted by 35 Kindle customers
That’s what makes it so hard—for all of us. We can’t forget.Highlighted by 34 Kindle customers
Suddenly and startlingly one sees in her face the girl she had once been, not a ghost of the dead, but still a living part of her.Highlighted by 25 Kindle customers
Scenes
ACT 1
Living room of the Tyrones' summer home 8:30 A.M. of a day in August, 1912
ACT 2
The same, around 12:45
ACT 3
The same, about a half hour later
ACT 4
The same, around 6:30 that evening
ACT 5
The same, around midnight
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