... Does It Seem To You That

Interpretation Is The Evidence Of Growth And Knowledge, The Latter Through Sorrow ? That Great Teacher.

I Use Everything That I Pick Up In My Memory, And Everything That Vibrates In My Soul.

I Did Not Use Paint, I Made Myself Up Morally.

To Save The Theatre, The Theatre Must Be Destroyed, The Actors And Actresses Must All Die Of The Plague. They Poison The Air, They Make Art Impossible. It Is Not Drama That They Play, But Pieces For The Theatre. We Should Return To The Greeks, Play In The Open Air; The Drama Dies Of Stalls And Boxes And Evening Dress, And People Who Come To Digest Their Dinner.

If The Sight Of The Blue Skies Fills You With Joy, If A Blade Of Grass Springing Up In The Fields Has Power To Move You, If The Simple Things Of Nature Have A Message That You Understand, Rejoice, For Your Soul Is Alive.