I had come at last and my heart was beating again strongly to a heart that could not know despair because it forgot itself in the duty of its love.

The will is never free - it is always attached to an object, a purpose. It is simply the engine in the car - it can't steer

God is a character, a real and consistent being, or He is nothing. If God did a miracle He would deny His own nature and the universe would simply blow up, vanish, become nothing.

Throughout the play everything possible was done to show the virtue, innocence and helplessness of the poor, and the abandoned cruelty, the heartless self-indulgence of the rich.

I look upon life as a gift from God. I did nothing to earn it. Now that the time is coming to give it back, I have no right to complain.

Of all things I find most unbearable is the injustice of one generation to another.

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