One begins with two people on a stage, and one of them had better say something pretty quick.

The theatre breeds its own kind of cruelty, and its sadism takes on a keener edge since it can be enjoyed under the innocent guise of critical judgment.

There is nothing like tasting the grit of fear for rediscovering that the umbilical cord is made of piano wire.

You'd be surprised how many kings are only a queen with a moustache.

The self-hatred that destroys is the waste of unfulfilled promise.

How many of us would be willing to settle when we're young for what we eventually get? All those plans we make...what happens to them? It's only a handful of the lucky ones that can look back and say that they even came close.

One of the grave dangers inherent in the various stages of any theatrical career-whether it be budding, quiescent or diminishing-is the advice of friends.