If You Rest, You Rust.

The Old-fashioned Idea That The Simple Piling Up Of Experiences, One On Top Of Another, Can Make You An Artist, Is, Of Course, So Much Rubbish. If Acting Were Just A Matter Of Experience, Then Any Busy Harlot Could Make Garbo's Camille Pale.

Our House Was Always Filled With Dogs... They Helped Make Our House A Kennel, It Is True, But The Constant Patter Of Their Filthy Paws And The Dreadful Results Of Their Brainless Activities Have Warmed Me Throughout The Years.

The Good Die Young But Not Always. The Wicked Prevail But Not Consistently. I Am Confused By Life, And I Feel Safe Within The Confines Of The Theatre.

In The Last Stages Of A Final Illness, We Need Only The Absence Of Pain And The Presence Of Family.

There Is No Racial Or Religious Prejudice Among People In The Theater. The Only Prejudice Is Against Bad Actors, Especially Successful Ones.