I always had this urge of making him jealous to see if he’d pull me back and do something about. To see if he can show me that he can love me more, but honestly, I really didn’t care about the people I made him jealous with, I just really cared for his attention, if he’d do something about it. Only when he didn’t do anything about it, is when I started to get confused about my feelings. Because they started to make me happier than him. The two situations are different, the latter being valid if you just tried to understand.
Once the curtain is raised, the actor ceases to belong to himself. He belongs to his character, to his author, to his public. He must do the impossible to identify himself with the first, not to betray the second, and not to disappoint the third. And to this end the actor must forget his personality and throw aside his joys and sorrows. He must present the public with the reality of a being who for him is only a fiction. With his own eyes, he must shed the tears of the other. With his own voice, he must groan the anguish of the other. His own heart beats as if it would burst, for it is the other’s heart that beats in his heart. And when he retires from a tragic or dramatic scene, if he has properly rendered his character, he must be panting and exhausted.
Sarah Bernhardt (via observando)