No drama, however great, is entirely independent of the stage on which it is given.

We do not kill the drama, we do not really limit its appeal by failing to encourage the best in it; but we do thereby foster the weakest and poorest elements.

What then is tragedy? In the Elizabethan period it was assumed that a play ending in death was a tragedy, but in recent years we have come to understand that to live on is sometimes far more tragic than death.

Rare is the human being, immature or mature, who has never felt an impulse to pretend he is some one or something else.

Drama read to oneself is never drama at its best, and is not even drama as it should be.

In all the great periods of the drama perfect freedom of choice and subject, perfect freedom of individual treatment, and an audience eager to give itself to sympathetic listening, even if instruction be involved, have brought the great results.

Acted drama requires surrender of one's self, sympathetic absorption in the play as it develops.