My mother wanted me to be a lawyer and I wanted to be an Actor. So I went to school, majored in theatre, and said 'Mom, I have to choose my own destiny. I want to be an actor.' A couple of weeks after I graduated college I called my mother up and said 'Can I borrow $200?' and she said 'Why don't you act like you've got $200.'
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Who teach the mind its proper face to scan,
And hold the faithful mirror up to man.
Who teach the mind its proper face to scan,
And hold the faithful mirror up to man.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
read more
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.
And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop
To the low mimic follies of a farce,
As read more
And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop
To the low mimic follies of a farce,
As a grave matron would to dance with girls.
There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.
There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.
I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my
own just above the others; because in read more
I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my
own just above the others; because in it I recognize the union
and culmination of my own. To me it seems as if when God
conceived the world, that was Poetry; He formed it, and that was
Sculpture; He colored it, and that was Painting; He peopled it
with living beings, and that was the grand, divine, eternal
Drama.
Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's read more
Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's you: the table is the place:
The carvers we: the prologue is the grace.
Each act, a course, each scene, a different dish,
Though we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh.
Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp and rough.
Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepperproof?
Wit is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true
Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew.
Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join.
Are butcher's meat, a battle's sirloin:
Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft and chaste,
Are water-gruel without salt or taste.
Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and, at the same time, selling yourself.
Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and, at the same time, selling yourself.
My favorite review described me as the cinematic equivalent of junk mail.
My favorite review described me as the cinematic equivalent of junk mail.
