It’s ironic that, in an industry where writers and directors but particularly performers search for ways to protect themselves emotionally so as not to be crippled artistically by rejection, I spent so much of my adulthood trying to get in touch with my emotions, to welcome and be led by them. During the previous eight years of my adjustment to the fact of being loved, warts and all, by the most important person in my life, the dichotomy in my nature had been dwindling until at last there was no longer any breach between thought and feeling.
