Your Words Are My Food, Your Breath

The Truth, The Absolute Truth, Is That The Chief Beauty For The Theatre Consists In Fine Bodily Proportions.

The Monster Of Advertisement...is A Sort Of Octopus With Innumerable Tentacles. It Throws Out To Right And Left, In Front And Behind, Its Clammy Arms, And Gathers In, Through Its Thousand Little Suckers, All The Gossip And Slander And Praise Afloat.

You Must Have This Charm To Reach The Pinnacle. It Is Made Of Everything And Of Nothing, The Striving Will, The Look, The Walk, The Proportions Of The Body, The Sound Of The Voice, The Ease Of The Gestures. It Is Not At All Necessary To Be Handsome Or To Be Pretty; All That Is Needful Is Charm.

Alas, We Are The Victims Of Advertisement. Those Who Taste The Joys And Sorrows Of Fame When They Have Passed Forty, Know How To Look After Themselves. They Know What Is Concealed Beneath The Flowers, And What The Gossip, The Calumnies, And The Praise Are Worth. But As For Those Who Win Fame When They Are Twenty, They Know Nothing, And Are Caught Up In The Whirlpool.

Each Action Of The Actor On The Stage Should Be The Visible Concomitant Of His Thoughts.