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Аноним2 января 2014 г.— Don't you love me?
— I might if I could find you. But where are you? If one stripped you of your exhibitionism, if one took your technique away from you, if one peeled you as one peels an onion of skin after skin of pretence and insincerity, of tags of old parts and shreds of faked emotions, would one come upon a soul at last?4137
Аноним1 мая 2013 г.Читать далее"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' But there's the illusion, through that archway; it's we, the actors, who are the reality. ... They are our raw material. We are the meaning of their lives. We take their silly little emotions and turn them into art, out of them we create beauty, and their significance is that they form the audience we must have to fulfil ourselves. They are the instruments on which we play, and what is an instrument without somebody to play on it?" ...
"Roger says we don't exist. Why, it's only we who do exist. They are the shadows and we give them substance. We are the symbols of all this confused, aimless struggling that they call life, and it's only the symbol which is real. They say acting is only make-believe. That make-believe is the only reality."4261
Аноним16 января 2013 г.Значительная часть их [старушек] жизни была занята тем, что они избегали сквозняков
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Аноним30 августа 2012 г.– Но я его люблю. Я хочу его. А вдруг он в Америке кого-нибудь увидит? Вдруг какая-нибудь богатая наследница увлечется им?
– Если любовь к тебе его не остановит, что ж, скатертью дорожка, сказал бы я.4107
Аноним21 июня 2012 г.Это даже забавно разговаривать с человеком, который никогда не догадывается, о чём идёт речь
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