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این کتاب خیلی برای من خطرناکه. هربار که سراغش می‌رم، چیزی در من شعله‌ور می‌شه که باعث می‌شه دلم بخواد همه چیز رو رها کنم، بیخیال هرچه که هست و نیست بشم و باقی زندگیم رو فقط فیلم بسازم.

«هنر آزاد است، هنر آزاد، بی‌شرم، بی‌مسئولیت و همانطور که گفتم حرکت مدامش شدید و تب‌آلود است؛ به اعتقاد من شبیه پوست ماری پر از مورچه است. خود مار مدت‌هاست که مرده، ولی پوست همچنان حرکت می‌کند و سرشار از زندگی‌ست.» (ص ۴۸)

I didn’t know that Hellen Keller dedicated her book, The Story of My Life, to Alexander Graham Bell. And I had no idea that she was both fully deaf and fully blind!

“I am sad at heart, and keep my feelings bottled up like wine in a wine cellar—only they don’t grow any better by keeping!” (A.G Bell, p. 146)

“Mr. Watson, come here! I want you!”

“Never accept commonplace or even sophisticated assumptions about any play. You are an artist; do your ‘own’ interpretation. That doesn’t mean novelty for its own sake, or twisting the work beyond itself. It means mastery of analytic reading techniques to help you to your own conclusions, conclusions that illuminate, not violate, the script.” (P.24)

مکبث: همسر عزیزم، جانم پُر از کژدم است!

«دمِ سردِ کلمات، شعله‌های عمل را می‌فسرد.»

“Directors and actors should ask themselves basic questions for every moment in the play: “who, when, where, why, for what reason, how.” At times, directors will not find answers through reading but must conduct research. […] What did Denmark look like? How cold were castles? People do not live generally; they live specifically.”

P.11

“There can’t be a sad shadow if there wasn’t a light to cast it” (34).
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“A kiss is a curious thing. The pressure of lips pressed together, the intermingling of breath, the silent vibration of one person’s skin that carries like a wave into another’s; a message transmitted from the heart of one into the heart of the other” (35).

Mon rythme de lecture est très lent, car je suis encore débutante en français, mais j’y prends beaucoup de plaisir.

BRANWELL. What do you know? What do you know about life? About the passion and the ecstasy. About the mess and the fear. Nothing. Defiled. We are all defiled. We are born drenched in blood and bile. Born guilty. Born ashamed.

There is no God. He is not there. He cannot hear you. There is only us. Us and the darkness.

p. 69

EMILY. Have you ever thought how strange it is that we consider nakedness shameful. That we consider it quite sensible to bind women into corsets and crinolines. To torture hair with hot irons. To hide under mountains of silk and lace and whalebone. All this is considered most respectable, whilst the sight of the flesh God gave us is sinful.

pp. 42-3

سوگ کاری کرده که پوست بیندازم. البته اول فلس‌گیری کرده، باورها و معیارهای قبلیم را فلس فلس کنده، برده و نگاهم را تغییر داده. پشیمانم خیلی چیزها را مسلم و محقق می‌دانسته‌ام. مثلا این را که بایست سوگواری کرد (…) و بالاخره از سوگ گذشت.