The point of acting is to pretend you're someone else and sell a story.

The point of acting is to pretend you're someone else and sell a story.

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.

The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give.
For we that live to please, must please to live.

The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give.
For we that live to please, must please to live.

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.

The actor who slapped you on the stage waits behind
the curtain to congratulate you on your performance
Sai Baba
read more

The actor who slapped you on the stage waits behind
the curtain to congratulate you on your performance
Sai Baba
http://www.vahini.org/downloads.

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.

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

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

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.