Sarah Kane
Sarah Kane
Sarah Kanewas an English playwright. Her plays deal with themes of redemptive love, sexual desire, pain, torture — both physical and psychological — and death. They are characterised by a poetic intensity, pared-down language, exploration of theatrical form and, in her earlier work, the use of extreme and violent stage action. Kane herself, as well as scholars of her work, such as Graham Saunders, identify some of her inspirations as expressionist theatre and Jacobean tragedy. The critic Aleks Sierz has...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth3 February 1971
You get mixed messages because I have mixed feelings.
Of course I loved you, you saved my life. I wish you hadn’t I wish you hadn’t I wish you’d left me alone.
What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is simply the absence of grief.
to feed, help, protect, comfort, console, support, nurse, or heal to be fed, helped, nursed, protected, comforted, consoled, supported, nursed, or healed to form mutually enjoyable, enduring, cooperating and reciprocating relationship with Other, with an equal to be forgiven to be loved to be free
I am the beast at the end of the rope.
A small girl became increasingly paralysed by her parents' frequently violent rows. Sometimes she would spend hours standing completely still in the toilet, simply because that was where she happened to be when the fight began. Finally, in moments of calm, she would take bottles of milk from the fridge or doorstep and leave them in places where she may later become trapped. Her parents were unable to understand why they found bottles of sour milk in every room in the house.
I feel like I’m eighty years old. I’m tired of life and my mind wants to die.
It is myself I have never met whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind
Sleep with a dog and rise full of fleas.
Please. Don’t switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me out. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don’t express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me.
Embrace beautiful lies - the chronic insanity of the sane
There's not a drug on earth can make life meaningful
I crave white on white and black, but my thoughts race in glorious technicolour, prodding me awake, whipping away the warm blanket of invisibility every time it sears to smother my mind in nothing.
I don’t have music, Christ I wish I had music but all I have is words.