If I Had My Will, I Would

To Save The Theatre, The Theatre Must Be Destroyed, The Actors And Actresses Must All Die Of The Plague. They Poison The Air, They Make Art Impossible. It Is Not Drama That They Play, But Pieces For The Theatre. We Should Return To The Greeks, Play In The Open Air; The Drama Dies Of Stalls And Boxes And Evening Dress, And People Who Come To Digest Their Dinner.

I Did Not Use Paint, I Made Myself Up Morally.

Anyone Who Presumes To Teach Art Has No Understanding Of It.

Interpretation Is The Evidence Of Growth And Knowledge, The Latter Through Sorrow ? That Great Teacher.

Work Means So Many Things! So Many! Among Other Things, Work Also Means Freedom. ... Without It Even The Miracle Of Love Is Only A Cruel Deception.