I’ve had the sort of day that would make Saint Francis of Assisi kick babies.

Sometimes we deny being worthy of praise, hoping to generate an argument we would be pleased to lose.

Mother is the architect of life whose presence fades once the structure is created.

The instinct to impersonate produces the actor; the desire to provide pleasure by impersonations produces the playwright; the desire to provide this pleasure with adequate characterization and dialogue memorable in itself produces dramatic literature.

Written By George Pierce Baker

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