[The following paragraph is from one of Peter O’Toole’s frequent autobiographies, specifically, Loitering with Intent: The Apprentice.]
The word, you see, for me, not only was in the beginning but also it is my end. As the music and magic in the arrangement and the meaning of words had lit in me throughout my childhood the spark that would in time light my way to becoming an actor, so now, as it has been throughout my professional life, the sounds of thoughts set down with pen and ink on paper by a master dramatist, the singular diction of his characters, the richness of his stories, the cunning of his plots tell me not only how to play my parts but also at last it is the expression of these thoughts by speech and movement which forms my purpose in being an actor. You may, though you will find me ferociously reluctant in allowing you to do so, take from me my perquisites, my properties, my plush playhouses, all finery, flim-flam and gorgeous show; take them, say I, wreck them should you begrudge my having them, or should you judge them to be cheap, unnecessary, worthless; leave me though, you meaner sods, one entity only and gladly shall I go on: leave me the word.
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