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You have to be selfish to be an actor.

quote by Charles Dance
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Selfish

Well, its too late for givin in
Ive been waitin for too long
Theres no way that I could lose
Givin me the love youve been holding back
Today Im not gonna wait
Not anymore, the time is now
Id give up everything
Just to have you for myself
Cuz when I think about it
Your love, your kiss
I never felt anything like this
Youre sent from above
Im so in love
When I think about it
Your touch, your smile
I never felt anything like this
And I know its real
Its just the way that I feel
Im just a little bit
Im selfish
I dont wanna share you with anybody else
Dont want them hugging you
Touching you, feeling you, kissing you
You could call me selfish
Im selfish
I dont want to share you with anybody else
I dont want no one around you
Calling you, paging you
You can call me selfish
Should I stop trippin and let it flow?
It happened a long time ago
Damn, boy you hurt me so
When you cheated on me with that other lady
Well, I felt embarassed and ashamed
And to top it, you called out her name
Keep thinking Im the one to blame
Still, I took you back
When I think about it
Your love, your kiss
I never felt anything like this
Youre sent from above
Im so in love
When I think about it
Your touch, your smile
I never felt anything like this
And I know its real
Its just the way that I feel
Im just a little bit
Im selfish
I dont wanna share you with anybody else

[...] Read more

song performed by Toni Braxton
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Selfish One

(wilfred mcginley/carl smith)
Selfish one, why keep your love to yourself
Its like a souvenir that just sits on a shelf
It seems like you built a fence around your heart
Afraid that sharing might tear it apart
You pass up every chance at the start of romance
Selfish one, why keep your love in store
You think its still that keeps forever more
You feel as I do when I ache
My heart could break down in a lonely stage
You better let your heart find a mate before its too late
You let so much time pass by
I find myself still giving you the eye
You must have realised much to my surprise
Youre making eyes at me
Is it really you
Now selfish one, youre walking me to my door
Selfish one, you never did this before
Without a chance to resist, your lips get mine
Youre beginning to let your love light shine
I can see that youre really on the ball
Youre not selfish at all
No, not at all
The way you hold me, the way you squize me
No youre not selfish
No, no, no
Youre not selfish at all, not at all
The way you hold me, the way you squize me
Youre not selfish at all
No not at all
The way you hold me
Youre not selfish at all

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Actor Of Love

Hold on
I have found something I longing for
To fill the hollowness of my heart
But why I'm feeling more of sorrow

Before
I am the one who said: 'Oh, I'll control'
But now I realize you are my world
And it's waiting to break apart

I'm an actor of love
I'm trying to perfect
But I'm just fooling around

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your hero
But I've made myself a clown

I'm an actor of love
I need you by my side
But now you leave me alone

I'm an actor of love
I beg your forgiveness
But you refuse me so cold

Sometimes
We wonder why we should be together
Do we really dream of love forever?
Or we afraid to be alone

I'm an actor of love
I want to protect you
But I always hurt you bad

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your shield
But may turn someone you hate

I'm an actor of love
We kiss in the morning
But in night we have a war

I'm an actor of love
We care for each other
But we only circle round

If this love only makes me crazy
Take the story and just let it be
Tragedy or comedy

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Behind the Scenes

The actor struts his little hour,
Between the limelight and the band;
The public feel the actor's power,
Yet nothing do they understand
Of all the touches here and there
That make or mar the actor's part,
They never see, beneath the glare,
The artist striving after art.
To them it seems a labour slight
Where nought of study intervenes;
You see it in another light
When once you've been behind the scenes.

For though the actor at his best
Is, like a poet, born not made,
He still must study with a zest
And practise hard to learn his trade.
So, whether on the actor's form
The stately robes of Hamlet sit,
Or as Macbeth he rave and storm,
Or plays burlesque to please the pit,

'Tis each and all a work of art,
That constant care and practice means --
The actor who creates a part
Has done his work behind the scenes.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Selfish

I am selfish
You are selfish
He is selfish
She is selfish

We all are selfish
To a lesser or a
Greater degree...

Let's not
Stay in denial.

Let's accept
Our selfishness
So that if people
Are selfish to us,
It hurts us less.

(Poem themed on Acceptance)

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Selfish

Ashes to ashes
Thats how it ends
(you go from) heartache to heartache
As you make amends
(just) bigger and bigger
But two steps back
You want something from nothing
And youre so exact
You think youre a rich man
Now you misbehave
Youre not a free man running
Just a comfortable slave
So selfish
You got more than you can use
But you still dont see
Youre so selfish
And youre running out of room
Deeper and deeper
As you forge ahead
Higher and higher
But youve been mislead
Harder and harder
You grind the stone
Faster faster faster
Till youre skin and bones
Too much ambition
Without relief
That aint heaven
But its what you teach
So selfish
You got more than you can use
But you still dont see
Youre so selfish
And youre running out of room
The world was made in seven days
Your heads are bowed to gods in praise
Civilized man can only be saved
When courage and wisdom are finally raised
Whos got the answer
Give me the cure
Dont rush to judgement
Until youre sure
So selfish
You got more than you can use
But you still dont see
Youre so selfish
And youre running out of room

song performed by Toto
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Expect Respect

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.
I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Example, The Blood Stained Soul

What kind of example do you call that?
You think you're a representation of good?
You hide your sorrows take them all in your hood
You're completely insane, you're a wreck.
Did you think that somehow ignoring people would help?
Instead you just let them all walk by
Just let them all die
You're not concerned with them
Don't you feel the blood on your hands? Staining the hem
It's on your clothes, it's all around you
But worse it's inside you too
Worse the blood is in your soul

The stain is in my soul, the stain is whole.
How can I just watch...
Why don't I catch
Them from the flames, I play video games, I do homework, I forget
Now this is what I get...
I can see the heartbeat
I can see the flatline
This is just another rhyme
Soon I'll forget
Soon I won't care again
Soon I'll tolerate sin
So this is what I get
My conscience is not guilty....no not guilty
No
It's dripping with blood
Is this how to be a good example?
This, this crap.... this is my example

You don't reflect anyone
You're selfish when you let them die
Selfish that you can watch them cry
Selfish that you offer no comfort
When it all boils down
And trust me the heat it will hurt
When all is burned away
You're just plain
Selfish.

I.... I am selfish.

poem by David Knox
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Condition of Traditions

How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.

How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.

How will we handle the right 'not' to fight,
In needless struggle.
Or clinched our teeth upon a bullet...
As tormenting pain surrounds,
To black and whiten...
Dimming colorized sights.

How will we handle scandle,
And revelations disbelieved.

How many awakened from deep and peaceful sleep,
Will move forward and aware they are seeking outreach.
And...
Just how many will be amused,
By thoughts of being used and abused by slick trickers!
Soliciting more of their conflicts,
In daylight and on city streets.

How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected.

And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.

How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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None More Selfish Than I

Some humans are such selfish creatures and none more selfish than I
The World revolves around me and praise of self I do enjoy
Some call it self survival or call it what you may
And meanwhile people dying of hunger every day.

I've never known what it feels like to be hungry or known of hunger pain
Yet of my poor existence I often do complain
So many poor and oppressed people would envy one like me
It surely can be a relative thing when one talks of poverty.

I meet so many selfish people who for themselves only care
Of the sufferings of others they don't even seem to care
As well as self centred they are ignorant and without thinking they say
That poverty is self inflicted in the World of today.

I may be a selfish bugger but in that I'm not alone
And I am one not without sin so I can't cast the stone
I feel that the World revolves around me how selfish can one be
And only the best of people are blessed with the gift of empathy.

poem by Francis Duggan
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An actor is an actor is an actor. The less personality an actor has off stage the better. A blank canvas on which to draw the characters he plays.

quote by Arthur Lowe
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My dad had been an actor... not only had my dad been an actor, but his dad had been an actor, and my great-grandfather had been an actor. And who knows before then?

quote by David Hyde Pierce
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My Cat

Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat

When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV

My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar

My cat
Cool cat

My cat is everywhere
Sees what he can see
He may not be an actor
He acts atrociously

My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar

My cat isn't crazy
He's everything to me
My cat burns the bible
And he thinks it's so funny

He isn't very good
He isn't very smart
He may not be Picasso
But he is a work of art

Hates me as much as I hate you

My cat
Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat

When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV

My cat is amazing

[...] Read more

song performed by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
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The Haughty Actor

AN actor - GIBBS, of Drury Lane -
Of very decent station,
Once happened in a part to gain
Excessive approbation:
It sometimes turns a fellow's brain
And makes him singularly vain
When he believes that he receives
Tremendous approbation.

His great success half drove him mad,
But no one seemed to mind him;
Well, in another piece he had
Another part assigned him.
This part was smaller, by a bit,
Than that in which he made a hit.
So, much ill-used, he straight refused
To play the part assigned him.

THAT NIGHT THAT ACTOR SLEPT, AND I'LL ATTEMPT
TO TELL YOU OF THE VIVID DREAM HE DREAMT.

THE DREAM.

In fighting with a robber band
(A thing he loved sincerely)
A sword struck GIBBS upon the hand,
And wounded it severely.
At first he didn't heed it much,
He thought it was a simple touch,
But soon he found the weapon's bound
Had wounded him severely.

To Surgeon COBB he made a trip,
Who'd just effected featly
An amputation at the hip
Particularly neatly.
A rising man was Surgeon COBB
But this extremely ticklish job
He had achieved (as he believed)
Particularly neatly.

The actor rang the surgeon's bell.
"Observe my wounded finger,
Be good enough to strap it well,
And prithee do not linger.
That I, dear sir, may fill again

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Stingy

You know what, baby
I need to tell you somethin and
Its somethin very important, you know
I want you to just take this time out and just listen very close
You hear me, listen
Can I have you for a minute, dont get shy cause my hearts in it
When I say you got me strung out
I dont know and I cant call it, but whatever it is you got it, nah, babe
Without a doubt, yeah
Never been the one to play and I dont like to be needed
But now I guess thats all changed
Thats why I get mad at your folks cause I dont want
You to go, no, babe I want you to stay
You can say Im trippin but Im stingy
And I cant hide it (I just wanna keep you warm)
Wanna keep you all to me, Im selfish
Why try to fight it (baby, youre the only one)
Youre the only one (yeah) with the only love
Thats strong enough to claim me (come on)
So please forgive me (please), Im just stingy (mmm, hmm)
But how can you blame me (listen)
Baby, tell em how you do it cause you got me so into it
Im gone, but I dont understand
So amazin, captivatin, elevatin, any way you try to put it
I wanna be your man
So if you want me to be yours
I dont, its alright, Im for it, I would so adore it
Nothin turns me on more than bein with you, baby,
Im not trippin
You can say Im trippin (no, I aint) but Im stingy
And I cant hide it (mmm,no, I just wanna keep you)
Wanna keep you all to me (oh, yes, I do), Im selfish
Why try to fight it (baby, youre the only one)
Youre the only one with the only love
Thats strong enough to claim me (oh, yes, you are)
So please forgive me (hey...), Im just stingy
But how can you blame me
Do what you want
Anything, anything (oh, anything, Im all yours), ill
Go along (yes, I am)
cause can do no wrong (can do no wrong)
Everything, everything, I do it cause Im so wide
Open
No jokin, you got me right where you want me to be
I just hope you feel the same cause I dont want
Nothin to change
This is where I wanna be
So if you wanna put me on, I dont mind, its alright
Im for it, I would so adore it
Nothin turns me on better than bein with you, baby,

[...] Read more

song performed by Ginuwine
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Tale XIII

JESSE AND COLIN.

A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor -
It hurt her not, she was not rich before:
Her humble share of worldly goods she sold,
Paid every debt, and then her fortune told;
And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health,
Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth;
It then remain'd to choose her path in life,
And first, said Jesse, 'Shall I be a wife? -
Colin is mild and civil, kind and just,
I know his love, his temper I can trust;
But small his farm, it asks perpetual care,
And we must toil as well as trouble share:
True, he was taught in all the gentle arts
That raise the soul and soften human hearts;
And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine
In higher class, and I could wish her mine;
Nor wants he will his station to improve,
A just ambition waked by faithful love;
Still is he poor--and here my Father's Friend
Deigns for his Daughter, as her own, to send:
A worthy lady, who it seems has known
A world of griefs and troubles of her own:
I was an infant when she came a guest
Beneath my father's humble roof to rest;
Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes,
Such her complaint, and there she found repose;
Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives,
And nobly, from the bless'd abundance, gives;
The grief, the want, of human life she knows,
And comfort there and here relief bestows:
But are they not dependants?--Foolish pride!
Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide?
Have I a home' (here Jesse dropp'd a tear),
'Or friend beside?'--A faithful friend was near.
Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay
His heart before her, and to urge her stay:
True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove,
An humble farmer with aspiring love;
Who, urged by passion, never dared till now,
Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow:
Her father's glebe he managed; every year
The grateful Vicar held the youth more dear;
He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view,
And wish'd his Jesse with a man so true:
Timid as true, he urged with anxious air
His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer,
When Jesse saw, nor could with coldness see,
Such fond respect, such tried sincerity;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Egotism

YE powers fantastic ! goblin, sylph and fay,
Whose subtle forms no laws material sway ;
Ethereal essences, that dart and glide
Wherever pleasure or caprice may guide ;
Who leap with equal ease, if ye are bid,
A lady's thimble and a pyramid,
And scale, alike regardless of a fall,
The parlour fender and the Chinese wall,
Slip through a key-hole, 'neath the listed door,
Or from the smallest crevice in the floor ;
Or steer your way (and man's devices mock)
Through the dark mazes of a patent lock ;--
Of you I sing not--but my theme shall be
Of things as quick and volatile as ye,
--Those busy, subtle pronouns, I and Me.
Unsought, and unexpected they appear ;
No barriers heed they, and no laws revere;
But wind and penetrate, with dextrous force,
Through all the cracks and crannies of discourse.

Of those with whom self proves the darling theme,
Not all indulge it in a like extreme ;
Some have the sense to cover it no doubt ;
Would they had sense enough to root it out !
We therefore bring, as first upon the list,
The loud, loquacious, vulgar egotist ;
Whose I's and Me's are scattered in his talk,
Thick as the pebbles on a gravel walk.
Whate'er the topic be, through thick and thin
Himself is thrust, or squeezed, or sidled in.
Conceiving thus his own importance swells,
He makes himself a part of all he tells ;
And still to this he winds the subject round :
Suppose his friend is married, sick, or drowned,
He brought about the match, he lets you know ;
Told him about Miss B. a year ago ;
Or never shall forget, whate'er ensues,
How much he felt when first he heard the news.
A horseman thrown, lay weltering in the mud;
He thought of something that would stop the blood.
A neighhour had a quarrel with his wife ;
He never saw such doings in his life !
A fire broke out at midnight in the town ;
He started up, threw on his flannel gown,
Seized an old hat full twice as large as his,
And said, says he , 'I wonder where it is !'
Was doubtful if 'twere best to stay or go,
And trembled like a leaf, from top to toe.
In vain at times, some modest stander-by,
Catching a pause to make his brief reply,

[...] Read more

poem by Jane Taylor
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Right before your eyes

I'm a defender of crimes
Right before your eyes
Voters let us all be hypnotized.

Be lead defenders of lies
As city bankers wink with a grin
Let us scratch and toil - cry

In a unheated bathtub
Numb, let us bathe cold to save.
Darn your pockets dear
But there's no money, here
Save the bones
Of an old Christmas turkey

Oh I'm a defender of crimes
Right before your eyes
Voters let us all be hypnotized.

Be lead defenders of lies
As city bankers wink with a grin
Let us scratch and toil - cry

In selfish solitude till we die
Baby don't you cry baby there's
A chance…? We'll buy a lottery ticket
And ride-out our last chance again
And maybe save our souls the pain.

What more can I say
When the bailiffs
Have more roots in our home today
Than us or the bird perched
In the broken bay-window here to stay
Because I've blown all our money away
On beer and scratch cards they'll say…

Oh I'm a defender of crimes
Right before your eyes
Voters let us all be hypnotized.

Be lead defenders of lies
As city bankers wink with a grin
Let us scratch and toil - cry
Jesus, tell me what's gone wrong…?

The saints preserve us;
Our time left won't be long
In selfish solitude let us die
In selfish solitude let us die

[...] Read more

poem by Mark Heathcote
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