Work means so many things! So many! Among other things, work also means freedom. ... Without it even the miracle of love is only a cruel deception.

When we grow old, there can only be one regret - not to have given enough of ourselves.

All that I have to offer as an artist is the revelation of my soul

I use everything that I pick up in my memory, and everything that vibrates in my soul.

The one happiness is to shut one's door upon a little room, with a table before one, and to create; to create life in that isolation from life.

To save the Theatre, the Theatre must be destroyed, and actors and actresses all die of the Plague ... they make art impossible.

To help, to continually help and share, that is the sum of all knowledge; that is the meaning of art.

Interpretation is the evidence of growth and knowledge, the latter through sorrow ? that great teacher.

We should return to the Greeks, play in the open air: the drama dies of stalls and boxes and evening dress, and people who come to digest their dinner.

... does it seem to you that it is possible to speak of Art? It would be the same as explaining love!

I did not use paint, I made myself up morally.

I remained Lailah, the redeem soul.

an optimist is the man who looks after your eyes, and the pessimist the person who looks after your feet.

In my opinion, understanding who your target audience is, and what they want, and writing to them (and only them!) is the most important component of being successful as an author.

Having children just puts the whole world into perspective. Everything else just disappears.

Technology and Ideology are shaking the foundations of 21st century capitalism. Technology is making skills and knowledge the only sources of sustainable strategic advantage.

I always wanted to be a teacher.

I didn't find my friends; the good Lord gave them to me.

He that has too much to do will do something wrong.

I'm pretty much on the "eat whatever you can diet," just to get calories in, so I can maintain myself throughout the season.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.