By Jove, he was comical! He had a Southern accent, and his delivery was full of defects.

He spoke of the workers, of the proletariat, of social justice.

It was magnificent; his voice, his gestures gripped one's very bowels; the applause nearly brought the house down.

I said to myself "What he is doing, I'll do on the stage, and I'll do it better.

I, a comic actor, will play tragedy.
Great tragedy parts, if they are to produce their true effect, ought to be played by a comedian, but he must have a soul."' The poor fellow actually thought that he had imagined a new form of art.