A Quote by Maria Callas
My poor sight gives me an advantage. I can't see the people in the audience who are scratching their heads while I am lost in my role and giving everything I have to the drama.
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I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.
Better to me the poor mans crust,
Better the blessing of the poor,
Though I turn me empty from his door;
That is no true alms which the hand can hold;
He gives nothing but worthless gold
Who gives from a sense of duty;
But he who gives a slender mite,
And gives to that which is out of sight,
That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty
Which runs through all and doth all unite, -
The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms,
The heart outstretches its eager palms,
For a god goes with it and makes it store
To the soul that was starving in darkness before.
Dear God, I am only what you made me and I appreciate everything that you gave me, but like, I don't want to do it any more, sort of lost sight of what I'm doing it for.
You bring me to my knees, while I'm scratching out the eyes of a world I want to conquer, and deliver, and despise. And right while I am kneeling there, I suddenly begin to care. And understand that there could be a person that loves me.
I have lost everything, and I am so poor now that I really cannot afford to let anything worry me.
Everything I have, I owe to Jardim Irene. I want the children to see me there, that I'm giving them attention, so that they can have a good role model.
I want people to just be paying attention even if they're not necessarily laughing at something, or if it takes them a while to get something, I don't mind that. If half the crowd gets the joke and the other half is sitting there scratching their heads, that's just as good for me if I like the joke, because I feel like it just brings people in more.
Why am I fighting to live, If I am just living to fight Why am I trying to see. When there aint nothing in sight Why am I trying to give, When no one gives me a try Why am I dying to live, If I am just living to die?
I don't feel uncomfortable in America, but every once in a while, I'm reminded that people don't see me the way I see me. It doesn't change my life, but it gives me a consciousness about it.
According to a lot of people I am in everything and they're sick of the sight of me.
Car prices play a large role in calculating PPPs even while they play no role whatsoever in the consumption or consumption needs of the poor. And the prices of rice, bread and beans play a small role in calculating PPPs even though they play a huge role in meeting the consumption needs of the poor. So the World Bank's method of comparing and converting everything at general purchasing power parities into US dollars is highly distorting within an exercise whose purpose it is to determine whether households are or are not capable of meeting their basic consumption needs.
Sometimes I go to the cinema and I see a movie where the directors or the filmmakers are telling me what to think, what to feel. They are giving me all the answers, and I'm like, "What am I doing here?" I try to have an active audience that are thinking and feeling for themselves.
My speed as a tall guy is deceptive. You look at me and I might not look fast, but when I go out and play, people are left scratching their heads like 'Where did that come from?'
Unfortunately, because the theater is always a poor relation when it comes to making the nut, it's not easy to get the audience in to see a play, unless you have a name that is recognizable, that the audience wants to see and is prepared to pay the $125 to see.
Because of who I am and what I've accomplished, everything is pretty much given to me. People cater to me all the time. It's almost like I've lost that edge - lost the ability to want something and then put in the work necessary to get it.
Truth usually makes no sense. If your desire is for everything to make perfect sense, then you should take refuge in fiction. In fiction, all threads tie together in a neat bow and everything moves smoothly from one point to the next to the next. In real life, though... nothing makes sense. Bad things happen to good people. The pious die young while the wicked live until old age. War, famine, pestilence, death all occur randomly and senselessly and leave us more often than not scratching our heads and hurling the question 'why?' into a void that provides no answers.
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