Reality is a narrow little house which becomes a prison to those who can't get out of it.

What is it in the actor, the stage, that casts so powerful a spell on the young imagination?

Funeral expenses are the curse of the poor everywhere on earth, they are wasteful and unnecessary, they are the price of foolish ostentation and a display that is less an evidence of grief than a vulgar travesty of those pompous obsequies where no grief is.

Something you have to make...It's all work, work.

People don't use their eyes. They never see a bird, they see a sparrow. They never see a tree, they see a birch. They see concepts.

The fear of hell, the punishment of sin, how the modern parent revolts from such teaching. Yet I will assert that far from doing us children harm, it was a sure foundation to the world of our confidence, a master girder in our palace of delight.

Remember I'm an artist. And you know what that means in a court of law. Next worst to an actress