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.

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.

Someone who's like Angelina Jolie because she isn't scared of not being pretty. She's my favourtie actress. I'd love a read more

Someone who's like Angelina Jolie because she isn't scared of not being pretty. She's my favourtie actress. I'd love a role like the one she played in 'Girl, Interrupted'. I've never met her.. I'd be so nervous! And star-struck!

My favorite review described me as the cinematic equivalent of junk mail.

My favorite review described me as the cinematic equivalent of junk mail.

On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting
'Twas only that when he was off, he was acting.

On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting
'Twas only that when he was off, he was acting.

Your scene precariously subsists too long,
On French translation and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; read more

Your scene precariously subsists too long,
On French translation and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage;
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage.

A good actor must never be in love with anyone but himself.

A good actor must never be in love with anyone but himself.

Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, read more

Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers;
"Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute!
Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
When "Chrononhotonthelogos must die,"
And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.

I sweat. If anything comes easy to me I mistrust it.

I sweat. If anything comes easy to me I mistrust it.