Your Words Are My Food, Your Breath

Alas, We Are The Victims Of Advertisement. Those Who Taste The Joys And Sorrows Of Fame When They Have Passed Forty, Know How To Look After Themselves. They Know What Is Concealed Beneath The Flowers, And What The Gossip, The Calumnies, And The Praise Are Worth. But As For Those Who Win Fame When They Are Twenty, They Know Nothing, And Are Caught Up In The Whirlpool.

I Refuse The Title Of Artist To Those Who Owe Their Reputations To A Physical Deformity. I Regard Them As Buffoons.

The Theatre Is The Involuntary Reflex Of The Ideas Of The Crowd.

What Matters Poverty? What Matters Anything To Him Who Is Enamoured Of Our Art? Does He Not Carry In Himself Every Joy And Every Beauty?

The Dramatic Art Would Appear To Be Rather A Feminine Art; It Contains In Itself All The Artifices Which Belong To The Province Ofwoman: The Desire To Please, Facility To Express Emotions And Hide Defects, And The Faculty Of Assimilation Which Is The Real Essence Of Woman.