It's Much Easier To Make People Cry

My First Husband And I Are Still Good Friends And There Is No Earthly Reason Why I Should Not See Him. Larry And I Are Very Much In Love.

My Husband, Who's The Greatest Actor In The World, Can Do Anything. Look At What He Did In The Critic And Oedipus. In Every Role He Gets-he Did This In Richard The Third-there's Nothing He Can't Do, Nothing. Just Nothing.

Classical Plays Require More Imagination And More General Training To Be Able To Do. That's Why I Like Playing Shakespeare Better Than Anything Else.

I Realize That The Memories I Cherish Most Are Not The First Night Successes, But Of Simple, Everyday Things: Walking Through Our Garden In The Country After Rain; Sitting Outside A Cafe In Provence, Drinking The Vin De Pays; Staying At A Little Hotel In An English Market Town With Larry, In The Early Days After Our Marriage, When He Was Serving In The Fleet Air Arm, And I Was Touring Scotland, So That We Had To Make Long Treks To Spend Weekends Together.

My Friends, When I Was Young, Were Always Older Than I Was, And I've Always Liked Them. And I Love Old Men And Old Ladies, Really. But I've Known More Elderly Men, Like Max Beerbohm, Like Beranard Berenson, Like Somerset Maugham, Winston Churchill-i'd Put Him First, Anyway-what They Say Is So Wise And So Good. They Know What They're Talking About.