Without class differences, England would cease to be the living theatre it is.
For the serious artist does not satisfy needs
All human life is here, but the Holy Ghost seems to be somewhere else.
Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?
Each man kills the thing he loves.
I think art is sublimated libido. You canโt be a eunuch priest, and you canโt be a eunuch artist.