I've listened backstage to people applaud. It's like... like waves of love coming over the footlights and wrapping you up. Imagine, to know every night that different hundreds of people love you. They smile. Their eyes shine. You've pleased them. They want you. You belong. Just that alone is worth anything.
(movie projector running) Still wonderful, isn't it? And no dialogue. We didn't need dialogue, we had faces. There just aren't any faces like that anymore. Maybe one, Garbo. Oh, those idiot producers. Those imbeciles. Haven't they got any eyes? Have they forgotten what a star looks like?! I'll show them! I'll be up there again, so help me!
I got a laugh at the table-read when I asked for the butter in the dinner sketch. I didn't get it at the dress. What did I do wrong? –It's 1 laugh out of 30 you're going to get tonight. –What did I do wrong? –You asked for the laugh. –What did I do at the table-read? –You asked for the butter.