Memories Are Less Tangible Than Dreams.

Eleonora Duse Said, "tell Me About Deirdre And Patrick," And Made Me Repeat To Her All Their Little Sayings And Ways, And Show Her Their Photos, Which She Kissed And Cried Over. She Never Said "cease To Grieve", But She Grieved With Me, And, For The First Time Since Their Death, I Felt I Was Not Alone.

I Had Learned To Have A Perfect Nausea For The Theatre: The Continual Repetition Of The Same Words And The Same Gestures, Night After Night, And The Caprices, The Way Of Looking At Life, And The Entire Rigmarole Disgusted Me.

I Had Discovered That Love Might Be A Pastime As Well As A Tragedy, And I Gave Myself To It With Pagan Innocence.

To Awaken Human Emotion Is The Highest Level Of Art.

With What Price We Pay For The Glory Of Motherhood.