Theatre Quotes Novels & Stories

lts to beautiful as if its a place from paradise. Many different pictures of celebrities are on the theater walls.l glanced at the one that has a name Keron Underwood and to say that he is not handsome is understatement.What attracted me the most is his dark eyelid that makes his eyes deep and romantic as well.Hmm when did l start to admire someone?!!! The theater in blink of an eye filled with people.They are many in that others were told to go back home. The stage curtains were pulled aside.New and young artists started to perform.Some of them gave a good performance while others were trying.

*sighs* Back to what I was saying, so little Theo had us thinking, we just walked out on our boss on the very last day of our resort, clearly forgot that she was our boss for some brief minutes and went ahead to DISOBEY her in front of her other employes when we could'nt win because it was a case of one against the world and my decision at that moment didn’t even give a shit about me like, I had my back against the wall and the worst case scenero was me walking out the theatre and ruining everyone's spirits. WHICH I DID

I whined because I was so embarrassed while he laughed at me. "Hate pollutes the mind." He quoted again and I whimpered. "Next time, pay attention!" He stated, giving me a look. "If we’re quoting Shakespeare, I want to add one." I scoffed crossing my arms on my chest. He motioned his hand to tell me to go on. "Hell is empty and all the devils are here." I spat angrily but it only amused him more and clapped for me as if saying ‘bravo.’ "I hate you... go to hell!" I scowled and grabbed my bag to leave the room. When I was at the door he spoke again.

“What are you doing—” And then he suddenly began a recitation that makes me freeze. It’s a famous line from a play so deeply buried in my childhood, I didn’t even know my brain still had it in storage. His voice echoes through the abandoned theatre, sending chills down my spine. And suddenly— A memory slams into me. I’m eight years old again. My tiny voice is reciting those same words on this same stage. I can still feel the lights on my face. I can still hear the frantic scrambling backstage.

Control and desire are siblings who cannot stand each other; they coexist under threat. “Wine?” I asked Camila, extending the bottle with the courtesy of a husband who knows his wife's preferred measure. She held out her glass without touching my fingers, thanked me with a slight nod, and returned to her plate. Patience. Theater requires repetition; the audience here was worth more than immediate victory.

“Go with Casablanca. None of that zombie nonsense.” Skylar grinned triumphantly. “See? The universe agrees with me.” The old man gave me a knowing smile. “Trust her, son. Always trust the girl who chooses black and white over cheap CGI.” “Duly noted,” I said, earning a laugh from Skylar. *** Inside, the theater was dim and half-empty. We found seats near the middle. As the opening credits rolled, she got closer to me and whispered, “Just warning you now that I’ll probably quote every line.”

If anything, they annoyed her. Until one night, after an exhausting rehearsal, as she headed backstage, she saw him leaning by the door—holding her script. She turned to leave, but Caden’s deep voice echoed behind her: “With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.” He was quoting the male lead from her play. Alora turned, stunned, breathless, meeting his blue gaze.

Finally, I reached the other side of the stage. Co-Actress: Hey, why did you take so long backstage? Me: (angrily) Because, ugh, so irritating! Those ghosts have no manners. It’s obvious that there’s a production going on and they were all in my way! Co-Actress: …. +++++++++++ So, for those who have this gift, would you like to guess which of these stories are true? Thing is, they can all be true too. Or all can be false? If you can actually see us, maybe you can ask the author where this theater is so you can find out for yourself.

"Now, we can afford to replace all those broken stage lights." Aaron narrows his eyes and purses his lips in a mix of disappointment and frustration. Ms. Parker chuckles, seemingly amused by his reaction. "Don't look so disappointed, Aaron," she says, patting his cheek gently. "The theater is a business, and without money, we would crumble. People like Charlotte Bradshaw are always welcome."

On the back, scratched in the inner rim: Property of MIRROR-011. PERFORMER LOCK: WRENLEIGH. Isolde’s hand clenched the note. She opened it. One sentence, written in a crisp, untraceable hand: If you want the truth to survive, perform it. If you want it to die, burn the room. Her fingers closed slowly around the page. She didn’t look at either of them. “Someone’s built this whole thing like a theatre,” she said. “Curtains. Scripts. Audience.” Penelope’s voice was quiet. “But who’s the playwright?”