The Only Dance Masters I Could Have

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.

Movements Are As Eloquent As Words.

With What Price We Pay For The Glory Of Motherhood.

These People Seemed So Enwrapped In Snobbishness And The Glory Of Being Rich That They Had No Art Sense Whatever.