I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.
You don't know the difference between truth and make-believe. You never stop acting. It's second nature to you. You act when there's a party here. You act to the servants, you act to father, you act to me. To me you act the part of the fond, indulgent, celebrated mother. You don't exist, you're only the innumerable parts you've played. I've often wondered if there was ever a you or if you were never anything more than a vehicle for all these other people that you've pretended to be. When I've seen you go into an empty room I've sometimes wanted to open the door suddenly, but I've been afraid to in case I found nobody there.
I think that everything in life is art. What you do, how you dress. How do you love someone and how do you say. Your smile and your personality. And all your dreams. How do you drink tea, how to decorate your home or how to have fun. Your shopping list. The food you cook. What your handwriting looks like. How are you feeling. Life is an art.