All Art Is Holy. Not

The Us, For Historical Reasons, Mistrusts The Concept Of A Welfare State, And This Mistrust Shows Itself Nakedly Under Present Us Government, Which Commits Uncounted Billions Of The National Wealth To What It Calls Defence, And Is Close-fisted In Giving Money To Plans Which Would Ameliorate The Grinding Poverty Of A Great Part Of Its People. Quite Simply, In Canada You Could Not Get Away With That.

Our Forebears Are Deserving Of Tribute For One Indisputable Reason, If For No Other: Without Them We Should Not Be Here. Let Us Recognize That We Are Not The Ultimate Triumph But Rather We Are Beads On A String. Let Us Behave With Decency To The Beads That Were Strung Before Us And Hope Modestly That The Beads That Come After Us Will Not Hold Us Of No Account Simply Because We Are Dead.

In My Collection, To Me At Least, The Theatre Of The Past Lives Again And Those Long-dead Playwrights And Actors Have In Me An Enthralled Audience Of One, And I Applaud Them Across The Centuries.

The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name Has Become The Love That Won't Shut Up.

Only In The Theatre Was It Possible To See The Performers And To Be Warmed By Their Personal Charm, To Respond To Their Efforts And To Feel Their Response To The Applause And Appreciative Laughter Of The Audience. It Had An Intimate Quality; Audience And Actors Conspired To Make A Little Oasis Of Happiness And Mirth Within The Walls Of The Theatre. Try As We Will, We Cannot Be Intimate With A Shadow On A Screen, Nor A Voice From A Box.