Teas, Where small talk dies in agonies.

Winter is come and gone, But grief returns with the revolving year.

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

Every now and then, when you're on stage, you hear the best sound a player can hear. It's a sound you can't get in movies or in television. It is the sound of a wonderful, deep silence that means you've hit them where they live.

Deep truth is imageless.

A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumns being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes.

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?