In this post, you will find great Tom Stoppard Quotes. You can learn and implement many lessons from these quotes.
I flinch when I see my name in the newspapers.
It’s really hard to talk about writing, and I’m usually conscious if I’m misleading people or misleading the questioner, because the problem with writing is the next line.
I’m vaguely embarrassed by myself sometimes.
I’m attracted to the past.
All of my scripts are based on other people’s novels. Generally, I consider myself as one who writes for theatre. I do not see film work as a continuation of writing for theatre. It is more of an interruption of the writing process.
People think I’m very nice, you know. And I’m not as nice as they think.

James Joyce – an essentially private man who wished his total indifference to public notice to be universally recognized.
Everybody I know is writing plays twice a year. It’s sort of making me feel I am not up to much.
It is not hard to understand modern art. If it hangs on a wall it’s a painting, and if you can walk around it it’s a sculpture.
I am good at being shown something and counterpunching.
Chekhov understood that people are mysterious and can’t be reduced to what we nowadays call ‘motivation.’
Good things, when short, are twice as good.
I take every possible side.
I was an awful critic. I operated on the assumption that there was an absolute scale of values against which art could be measured. I didn’t trust my own subjective responses.
After all these years, I definitely associate having a pen in my hand with having an ashtray just out of eye line.
For me, human rights simply endorse a view of life and a set of moral values that are perfectly clear to an eight-year-old child. A child knows what is fair and isn’t fair, and justice derives from that knowledge.
Theater is still a medium which attracts young writers. You’d think that it would be all over by now, with television and film. But it’s not.
I think probably I’ve been influenced by Chekhov and Walt Disney, if you see what I mean.
I like the notion of theater as recreational.
I think I’m a difficult conventional writer.
Age is a very high price to pay for maturity.

Although I don’t examine myself in this respect, I would say, off the top of my head, that I’ve come to acknowledge my Czechness more as I get older.
Possibly because I did start off as a journalist, my starting point has always been that you’ve got to keep an audience with you. Whatever you’re doing, you always want a script to be a page-turner. It’s very important never, ever, to feel above that.
It is better to be quotable than to be honest.
I want to support the whole idea of the humanities and teaching the humanities as being something that – even if it can’t be quantitatively measured as other subjects – it’s as fundamental to all education.
I don’t want to come over as some boringly self-deprecating person. But I don’t see myself as a groundbreaking writer in the way plays are structured.
If Beethoven had been killed in a plane crash at the age of 22, it would have changed the history of music and of aviation.
The House of Lords, an illusion to which I have never been able to subscribe – responsibility without power, the prerogative of the eunuch throughout the ages.
My intention still is to write a play to commemorate, possibly rather skeptically, the 50th anniversary of the Russian revolution. I started it at the beginning of 1966, but confronted with the enormous importance and reality of that revolution, I absolutely boggle. I don’t know what to do about it.
The idea that being human and having rights are equivalent – that rights are inherent – is unintelligible in a Darwinian world.
I’m very garrulous, but I don’t say anything.
I’m not interested in clothes; I just like them.
The notion that the ‘leader‘ has the right to ask huge sacrifices of your generation for a notional future paradise – if you’d be good enough to lie down under the wheels of the juggernaut – that sentimental and self-aggrandising rationalisation for brute force and cowardice I felt from adolescence was wrong.
Get me inside any boardroom and I’ll get any decision I want.

Why should I write a play? I don’t have to write a play, do I? But somehow, I think that’s what I’m here for, so I’d better do it.
For me, the reputation for teaching language in general, and East European languages most particularly, gave Glasgow University, and by reflection the country, a distinction.
I really just like to be at a desk.
One of the nice things about the world of filmmaking is that you make friends in the business. Sometimes directors feel a script needs something, but they’re not sure what it is, so they show it to a friend; if the friend is a writer, he ends up kicking around with that script for a while.
My life feels, week to week, incomplete to the level of being pointless if I am not in preparation for the next play or, ideally, into it.
To be 64 is appalling, so what does it matter being 65?
My intention still is to write a play to commemorate, possibly rather skeptically, the 50th anniversary of the Russian revolution. I started it at the beginning of 1966, but confronted with the enormous importance and reality of that revolution, I absolutely boggle. I don’t know what to do about it.
Maturity is a high price to pay for growing up.
I think I’m a difficult conventional writer.
You can’t go around chasing your own plays and showing up every time somebody does one somewhere. You just cross your fingers and hope that they’re OK.
There are certain sorts of jokes which have only to do with the substitution of the unexpected word in a familiar context. If you translated something into French and then had it translated back into English by somebody who didn’t know the original, you’d lose what was funny.
If I had been asked to write 1,200 words for a newspaper tomorrow, on any subject, I would just do it rather than leave a white hole in the page. And I think it’s a very healthy attitude to take to writing anything.
My brain cells are dying in their trillions.
In the theater there is often a tension, almost a contradiction, between the way real people would think and behave, and a kind of imposed dramaticness.
It is no light matter to put in jeopardy a single life when it is the very singularity of each life which underpins the idea of a just society.
The fact is, I loved being English. I was very happy to be turned into an English schoolboy.
‘Shakespeare in Love’ was a particularly happy film.
I write plays because writing dialogue is the only respectable way of contradicting yourself. I put a position, rebut it, refute the rebuttal, and rebut the refutation.
Despite the digital age, there is a very large number of venues and spaces that are looking for plays, and many of them are looking for new plays.
I feel overestimated.
Obviously, you would give your life for your children, or give them the last biscuit on the plate. But to me, the trick in life is to take that sense of generosity between kin, make it apply to the extended family and to your neighbour, your village and beyond.
For me, human rights simply endorse a view of life and a set of moral values that are perfectly clear to an eight-year-old child. A child knows what is fair and isn’t fair, and justice derives from that knowledge.
If I hadn’t left Czechoslovakia, I would have been dead.
It is not hard to understand modern art. If it hangs on a wall it’s a painting, and if you can walk around it it’s a sculpture.
Like most writers, I just create because I have a story to tell, really.
You end up going to school plays quite a bit as a parent, there are a lot of kids who are doing the job as well as they can, but there’s always one or two who seem much more at home in the world of impersonation.

If I see an actor in a role that is really terrifying, no matter how many times I meet him socially, I’m still frightened of him. I think he’s going to hit me.
I went to an English school and was brought up in English. So I don’t feel Czech.
Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.
Back in the East you can’t do much without the right papers, but with the right papers you can do anything The believe in papers. Papers are power.
I don’t believe that we evolved moral psychology; it just doesn’t seem plausible to me as a biological phenomenon.
I always loved rock ‘n’ roll.
I don’t feel like a Londoner.
My scripts are possibly too talkative. Sometimes I watch a scene I’ve written, and occasionally I think, ‘Oh, for God‘s sake, shut up.’
I was delighted to not go to university. I couldn’t wait to be out of education.
We’re actors. We’re the opposite of people.
The notion that the ‘leader‘ has the right to ask huge sacrifices of your generation for a notional future paradise – if you’d be good enough to lie down under the wheels of the juggernaut – that sentimental and self-aggrandising rationalisation for brute force and cowardice I felt from adolescence was wrong.
Lou Reed was a hero because he was an anti-hero.
The idea that public safety, the safety of the innocent, is an absolute which trumps every other consideration, is tacitly abandoned in the way we live.
The idea that anybody might be allowed to use their common sense when clearly no harm is being done is part of history now.
When I was 20, in 1957, and maybe you would say I was old enough to know better, but nevertheless, I was completely nuts about Buddy Holly. And I loved pop bands that had absolutely no intellectual pretensions whatsoever. I loved the Monkees.
I’m not that taken with Freudian perspectives. They seem to be overcomplicated.
Lou Reed was a hero because he was an anti-hero.
I can be affectionate about a lot of things without watching them.
When you write, it’s making a certain kind of music in your head. There’s a rhythm to it, a pulse, and on the whole, I’m writing to that drum rather than the psychological process.
I barely remembered my father; I’m confused between genuine memory and the few photographs that survived.
There are too many things I find it difficult to say ‘no’ to.
The whole excitement for writing anything is quite intense. And for a day or two, you think you’ve done everything extremely well. The problems start on the third day, and continues for the rest of your life.