Quote by Bette Davis

Good actors I've worked with all started out making faces in a mirror, and you keep making faces all your life.


Good actors I've worked with all started out making faces in

Summary

This quote highlights the importance of practice and growth in the craft of acting. It suggests that actors who have succeeded in their careers have often started by experimenting with facial expressions and continue to do so throughout their lives. It emphasizes the notion that acting is a continuous process of honing one's skills and refining one's ability to convey emotions effectively. By consistently exploring and experimenting with expressions, actors can develop their artistry and achieve greater mastery in their performances.

Topics

Life
By Bette Davis
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Random Quotations

As she came up to the arch Elizabeth saw with a start that it was written on. She went closer. She peered at the stone. There were names on it. Every grain of the surface had been carved with British names; their chiselled capitals rose from the level of her ankles to the height of the great arch itself; on every surface of every column as far as her eyes eyes could see there were names teeming, reeling, over surfaces of yards, of hundreds of yards, over furlongs of stone.She moved through the space beneath the arch where the man was sweeping. She found the other pillas identically marked, their faces obliterated on all sides by the names that were carved on them.'Who are these, these ...?; She gestured with her hand.''These?' The man with the brush sounded surprised. 'The lost.''Men who died in battle?''No. The lost, the ones they did not find. The others are in cemetries.''These are just the ... unfound?'She looked at the vault above her head and then around in panic at the endless writing, as though the surface of the sky had been papered in footnotes.When she could speak again, she said, 'from the whole war?'The man shook his head. 'Just these fields.' He gestured with his arm.Elizabeth went and sat on the steps on the other side of the monument. Beneath her was a formal garden with some rows of white headstones, each with a tended plant or flower at its base, each cleaned and beautiful in the weak winter sunlight.'Nobody told me.' She ran her fingers with their red-painted nails back through her thick dark hair. 'My God, nobody told me.

Sebastian Faulks, 'Birdsong' p.