Theatre Quotes Novels & Stories

The community theater group was in practice doing a play without a script, only a series of cues: a Clause, a memory, a gesture. One of the actors remained motionless, palms open. She had forgotten her line. Someone in the wings called out, "Begin where it hurts." She breathed. "It hurt to be forgotten." A voice echoed from the other side of the stage. "So we remembered you in the system." The room froze for a moment. Then someone applauded—not as audience, but witness. --- 9:14 PM — Penthouse, Workroom A fresh printout danced on the table—delivered from an island that had just gone online through solar mesh. A sketch of Clause Fourteen: Labor is not weight. It is tie.

"Then you lose your honesty. They'll let that go. They won't pardon quiet. The door behind them opened with a hiss. A rush of advisors pushed forward, their voices sounding like buzzing flies. "Mr. Kensington, the stage is set. The microphones are on. "The crowd is getting impatient." Theodore's jaw got tight. "I never asked for this stage," he mumbled to himself. Alistair hit the marble tile with his cane hard enough to break it. "No man ever asks." He grabs it, or he gets crushed by it.

Unbeknownst to her, the hush of the theatre seemed to heighten her presence; her long chestnut hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned forward, intent, almost holding her breath at certain lines. Bianca had always loved theatre; she had read and re-read the works of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams while she was working for her father, standing behind the counter, when there was no great work. Quiara Alegría Hudes was one of her present favourites. And watching her animated face, St Just was struck once again by her multi-faceted personality. Bianca Cruz was not just a lovely woman and the woman he loved, along with his errant brother; no, she was a deeply passionate, intelligent w

He lay down on the rock platform and I lay my head on his stomach. “Babe, what do you think about Ethan’s idea? That we need to be even more sensual and Trey might propose the idea to alter the play’s ending?” “Sounds like an interesting challenge, to be honest. But on the other hand, I don’t know what the others in the theatre club would say about it. And also the audience.” “Anita, we do not act to impress the audience. It’s our art, we might do anything we like and let other people have their own opinion or interpretation about it.”

drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make die with a restorative. O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die. Juliet stabbed herself, as the audience gasped, and as she did, Sage sat there, mesmerized, and felt as if he had been stabbed himself. The curtain fell, and the crowd slowly erupted into applause. Sage sat there, feeling so numb, so deeply lost in the action of the play, that he had a hard time coming out of it. He forgot for a moment where he was.

"Mr. D, I don't like cliffhangers. So spit it out," I urge him. I always know that there's always a sense to what he says behind his weirdness. "Jessica, in Merchant of Venice, says that love is blind and lovers cannot see. But I'd still say it's stupid." I laugh. Mr. D is indeed versatile. Aside from his immense knowledge about art and technology, I realize he's also well-versed in literature. Thus, the famous Shakespeare's quote.

I stepped toward her and set my hand on her waist before murmuring, “We make ourselves rich by making our wants few.” Her lips parted as if that was the most profound thing she’d ever heard. And it might’ve been, since it had originally come from the lips of Henry David Thoreau. Which was why I couldn’t continue to take credit for it. I pointed past her toward the wall with my free hand. “At least that’s what Thoreau says.” She glanced back to find the quote printed and framed above the desk. “Oh.” Scowling, she whirled back to poke me in the gut. “You cheated. That’s a cheater’s answer.”

It was a side of him I hadn't seen before, and I didn't like it. "I won't discuss my personal life with you," I said, my voice firmer this time. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear, and his grip on my shoulder tightened further. "You need to be careful. The world of theater can be ruthless, and your success depends on more than just talent." "Mr. Bennett, I won't allow anyone to use their power to manipulate me," I said, my voice shaking with anger and resolve. His face contorted with anger, and he released his grip on my shoulder with a sudden, forceful push. "You'll regret this, just like your mother did."

Alexandre was a seasoned professional, but his nerves bored into his gut like heated needles. It was always the same on opening night. Visions of what could go wrong, last-minute hitches, and a plethora of irksome hiccups danced along with the music. 'Think of it like a rehearsal,' he thought, stretching his leg elegantly as he peered into the darkness. 'An invisible audience. Perhaps audiences from the past that still enjoy the theatre." He smiled at the image. 'That would be what I would do, or scare those people I never liked.'

I grabbed Arthur’s arm. I had to wait a moment until some of the catering staff went back to the kitchen. My palm tingled with how good it felt, resting on top of the soft material of Arthur’s expensive suit jacket. When there was no staff close by, I said. “I don’t get it. How did you manage that so smoothly?” “I’m great with people. I have amazing acting skills,” Arthur said. “Oh?” Arthur continued solemnly. “You know what Shakespeare said, ‘All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players’.”