If You Rest, You Rust.

We Rely Upon The Poets, The Philosophers, And The Playwrights To Articulate What Most Of Us Can Only Feel, In Joy Or Sorrow. They Illuminate The Thoughts For Which We Only Grope; They Give Us The Strength And Balm We Cannot Find In Ourselves. Whenever I Feel My Courage Wavering, I Rush To Them. They Give Me The Wisdom Of Acceptance, The Will And Resiliance To Push On.

I Cry Out For Order And Find It Only In Art.

We Relish News Of Our Heroes, Forgetting That We Are Extraordinary To Somebody Too.

Perhaps We Have Been Misguided Into Taking Too Much Responsibility From Our Children, Leaving Them Too Little Room For Discovery

Actors Cannot Choose The Manner In Which They Are Born. Consequently, It Is The One Gesture In Their Lives Completely Devoid Of Self-consciousness.