A Fact Is Like A Sack Which

Man Never Reasons So Much And Becomes So Introspective As When He Suffers; Since He Is Anxious To Get At The Cause Of His Sufferings, To Learn Who Has Produced Them, And Whether It Is Just Or Unjust That He Should Have To Bear Them.

Each Of Us When He Appears Before His Fellows Is Clothed In A Certain Dignity. But Every Man Knows What Unconfessable Things Pass Within The Secrecy Of His Own Heart.

I Am An "unrealized" Character, Dramatically Speaking.

A Fact Is Like A Sack Which Won't Stand Up If It's Empty. In Order That It May Stand Up, One Has To Put Into It The Reason And Sentiment Which Caused It To Exist.

We're Like So Many Puppets Hung On The Wall, Waiting For Someone To Come And Move Us Or Make Us Talk.