The drama is a great revealer of life.
Farce treats the improbable as probable, the impossible as possible.
No drama, however great, is entirely independent of the stage on which it is given.
Drama read to oneself is never drama at its best, and is not even drama as it should be.
Acted drama requires surrender of one's self, sympathetic absorption in the play as it develops.
But what is drama? Broadly speaking, it is whatever by imitative action rouses interest or gives pleasure.
Rare is the human being, immature or mature, who has never felt an impulse to pretend he is some one or something else.
In reading plays, however, it should always be remembered that any play, however great, loses much when not seen in action.
Sensitive, responsive, eagerly welcomed everywhere, the drama, holding the mirror up to nature, by laughter and by tears reveals to mankind the world of men.
We do not kill the drama, we do not really limit its appeal by failing to encourage the best in it; but we do thereby foster the weakest and poorest elements.