Christmas Is At Our Throats Again.

A Perfect Martini Should Be Made By Filling A Glass With Gin Then Waving It In The General Direction Of Italy.

My Importance To The World Is Relatively Small. On The Other Hand, My Importance To Myself Is Tremendous. I Am All I Have To Work With, To Play With, To Suffer And To Enjoy. It Is Not The Eyes Of Others That I Am Wary Of, But Of My Own. I Do Not Intend To Let Myself Down More Than I Can Possibly Help, And I Find That The Fewer Illusions I Have About Myself Or The World Around Me, The Better Company I Am For Myself.

The Theatre Should Be Treated With Respect. The Theatre Is A Wonderful Place, A House Of Strange Enchantment, A Temple Of Illusion. What It Most Emphatically Is Not And Never Will Be Is A Scruffy, Ill-lit, Fumed-oak Drill Hall Serving As A Temporary Soap Box For Political Propaganda.

As One Gets Older, One Discovers Everything Is Going To Be Exactly The Same With Different Hats On.

Acting Is Not A State Of Being ... But A State Of Appearing To Be.