Quotes About Drama

He put his feet down into the little puddle she'd chosen. They were huge next to hers, and they both stared for a moment. Then he moved in one smooth motion to her rock. // "What are you doing?" she gasped, just like the heroine in a bad play.

Child!' Eleanor exclaimed. 'You didn't say there'd been a child!' 'I said a catastrophe,' her mother replied. 'And believe me, in cases such as these, the words are one and the same.

Don't make me Romeo

Come, tears, confound,' he cried. 'Out, sword, and wound the left breast of Pyramus. Ay, that left breast where his heart doth hop.

There was some rustling as the gown was cast over the soprano's shoulders, or so Lina assumed, and then the alto and Madame Rocque started cooing. But the soprano cut through it decisively. 'I look like an orange without its rind,' she said firmly.

But thinking about Shakespeare didn't really help. Everyone was so melodramatic in the old days.

He didn't have to live in costume. He was no Hamlet. Yet somehow he had become Hamlet: emotional, uncontrolled, desperate. His reaction felt primitive and entirely ungentlemanly. No subtleties. He wanted—he wanted her. Joan. No Lucy Lockett for him. He would have her, his unladylike, dramatic, illegitimate . . . love. He

And that was the moment my mother turned up, in character as a raving sociopath.

Una de esas noches en que la vida parece un musical.

Then out of the darkness a deep voice commanded, "Halt, in the name of the Continental Army!" "Halt?" Tony whispered. "Is he kidding?

I went ahead and read all of George Bernard Shaw's plays for my own pleasure, because I liked the cut of his beard.

Prava samoca je ona u kojoj se osecas apsolutno izolovanim izmedju neba i zemlje, nista ne treba da skrece tvoju paznju od ovih pojava apsolutne izolacije, vec intuicija stravicne lucidnosti treba da otkriva vascelu dramu covekove konacnosti pred beskonacnoscu i prazninom ovog sveta.

Every friendship is an inconspicuous drama, a series of subtle wounds.

Noble gestures are always suspect. Each time, we regret having committed them. Something false about them, something theatrical, attitudinizing. It is true that we regret ignoble gestures almost as much.

If he changes his country, his drama merely begins again: exodus is his seat, his certainty, his chez soi.

If anybody could have any doubt about the liveliness of Shakespeare, let them consider the character of Falstaff. When a man has created that without a capacity for laughter, then a blind man may succeed in describing colors. Intense animal spirits are the single sentiment (if they be a sentiment) of the entire character. If most men were to save up all the gaiety of their whole lives, it would come about to the gaiety of one speech in Falstaff.

On few subjects has more nonsense been written than on the learning of Shakespeare.

If in opera the music impaired the verisimilitude of the acting, it is not less true that acting limited the variety of the music.

A mother's life, you see, is one long succession of dramas, now soft and tender, now terrible. Not an hour but has its joys and fears.

What a wretched dramatist Shakespeare is! Othello is in love with glory; he wins battles, he gives orders, he struts about and is all over the place while Desdemona sits at home; and Desdemona, who sees herself neglected for the silly fuss of public life, is quite meek all the time. Such a sheep deserves to be slaughtered.

In the theater there are players who can make a production out of eating an apple.

I've played Private Lives everywhere except underwater.

I have ever had the conviction, resistant to all rational considerations, that at some unspecified future moment the continuous rehearsal which is my life, with its so many misreadings, is slips and fluffs, will be done with and that the real drama for which I have ever and with earnestness been preparing will at last begin. It is a common delusion.

Most of us do not live especially holy lives, after all. We spend most of our time sitting in traffic, paying bills, and being irritated with one another. Yet every week we are invited to stop all of that for one hour at least. We are invited to participate in a great drama that has been going on without us for thousands of years, and one that will go on as long as there is a single player left standing.