"I was terribly shy and never said anything in class. Then I started getting into school plays. When you've got words to say, you've got a sort of armour."

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The glories of our blood and state, Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hand on kings. Scepter and crown must tumble down, And, in the dust, be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

— James Shirley