In the best farce today we start with some absurd premise as to character or situation, but if the premises be once granted we move logically enough to the ending.

No drama, however great, is entirely independent of the stage on which it is given.

In reading plays, however, it should always be remembered that any play, however great, loses much when not seen in action.

Farce treats the improbable as probable, the impossible as possible.

Drama read to oneself is never drama at its best, and is not even drama as it should be.

The instinct to impersonate produces the actor; the desire to provide pleasure by impersonations produces the playwright; the desire to provide this pleasure with adequate characterization and dialogue memorable in itself produces dramatic literature.

We do not kill the drama, we do not really limit its appeal by failing to encourage the best in it; but we do thereby foster the weakest and poorest elements.

Back through the ages of barbarism and civilization, in all tongues, we find this instinctive pleasure in the imitative action that is the very essence of all drama.

Acted drama requires surrender of one's self, sympathetic absorption in the play as it develops.

But what is drama? Broadly speaking, it is whatever by imitative action rouses interest or gives pleasure.