The Devil Is Precise; The Marks Of

...an Everlasting Funeral Marches Round Your Heart.

Theater Is A Very Changeable Art. It Responds To The Moment In History The Way The Newspaper Does, And There's No Predicting What To Come Up With Next.

Poor Brain! How Helplessly It Dissolves When Willing Eyes Meet And The Nose Warms To Those Old Jungle Scents.

When Any Creativity Becomes Useful, It Is Sucked Into The Vortex Of Commercialism, And When A Thing Becomes Commercial, It Becomes The Enemy Of Man.

And Yet One Can't Forever Stand On The Shore; At Some Point, Even If Filled With Indecision, Skepticism, Reservation And Doubt, You Either Jump In Or Concede That Life Is Forever Elsewhere.