Classical Plays Require More Imagination And More

My Husband, Who's The Greatest Actor In The World, Can Do Anything. Look At What He Did In The Critic And Oedipus. In Every Role He Gets-he Did This In Richard The Third-there's Nothing He Can't Do, Nothing. Just Nothing.

I'm A Scorpio, And Scorpios Eat Themselves Out And Burn Themselves Up Like Me.

My Birth Sign Is Scorpio And They Eat Themselves Up And Burn Themselves Out. I Swing Between Happiness And Misery. I Am Part Prude And Part Nonconformist. I Say What I Think And I Don't Pretend And I Am Prepared To Accept The Consequences Of My Actions.

My Parents Were French And Irish And Our Family Even Has Spanish Blood-and I Do So Love The United States And Consider Myself Part American.

But I Remember The Morning After The Mask Of Virtue-which Is The First Play I Did At The West End-that Some Critics Saw Fit To Be As Foolish As To Say That I Was A Great Actress. And I Thought, That Was A Foolish, Wicked Thing To Say, Because It Put Such An Onus And Such A Responsibility Onto Me, Which I Simply Wasn't Able To Carry. And It Took Me Years To Learn Enough To Live Up To What They Said-for Those First Notices. I Find It So Stupid. I Remember The Critic Very Well, And Have Never Forgiven Him.