Reality' Is A Word With Many Meanings.

Shakespeare Doesn't Belong To The Past. If His Material Is Valid, It Is Valid Now. It's Like Coal. The Only Meaningfulness Of A Piece Of Coal Starts And Finishes With Its Combustion, Giving Us Light And Heat. And That To Me Is Shakespeare.

Preparing A Character Is The Opposite Of Building-it Is A Demolishing, Removing Brick By Brick Everything In The Actor's Muscles, Ideas And Inhibitions That Stands Between Him And The Part, Until One Day, With A Great Rush Of Air, The Character Invades His Every Pore.

I Can Take Any Empty Space And Call It A Bare Stage.

Theatres, Actors, Critics And Public Are Interlocked In A Machine That Creaks But Never Stops. There Is Always A New Season In Hand And We Are To Busy To Ask The Only Vital Question Which Measures The Whole Structure. Why Theatre At All? What For? Is It An Anachronism, A Superannuated Oddity? Surviving Like An Old Monument Or A Quaint Custom? Why Do We Applaud And What? Has The Stage A Real Place In Our Lives? What Function Can It Have? What Could It Serve? What Could It Explore? What Are Its Special Properties?

The Purpose Of Theatre Is... Making An Event In Which A Group Of Fragments Are Sudde Nly Brought Together... In A Community Which, By The Natural Laws That Make Every Community, Gradually Breaks Up... At Certain Moments This Fragmented World Comes Together And For A Certain Time It Can Rediscover The Marvel Of Organic Life ... The Marvel Of Being One.