“The theater was my first training ground. It taught me discipline, dedication and appreciation of hard work.”

Sometimes we look for those thunderous things to happen in our life for our lives to change or go in the other direction. We seek the miracle. We seek the parting of the seas, the moving of the mountains. But no, its a quiet thing. At least for me it was.

The stage sharpened my creative instrument and encouraged me to go deeper and try new things.

If we plant the right seeds, tomorrow will be better. If you put out good things, then you’ll get good things back. That’s part of our responsibility as entertainers.

I didn’t know who Langston Hughes was till he met me backstage.

You’ve got to make haste while it’s still light of day. My godmother used to say, I don’t want to rust out, I just want to work out. If you stand still long enough, people will throw dirt on you.

Nine years after I had my own accident, I find that in trying to go back to doing those things that I used to do just doesn’t fit. Everything seems to just fall apart. I don’t know why but I think it is because I am this new creature.

Our creator says, ‘Here’s your birth and here’s your death’ – and the rest are the things you learn on your journey. This was my experience – and the choice is, I can lay in the misery, or choose to learn from it and move on.

The death of my daughter is a subject I talk about briefly because there is nothing more tragic.

So be encouraged and dedicate yourself to your dream and if your dream should come my way one day then we will dance upon the boards of life.

When people come and see my show, I try to infuse into them that they can walk away feeling like their lives are a victory.

I used to dance, but now I only move.

You’ve got to make haste while it’s still light of day.

I love sharing my story. It’s endlessly healing.

I want to show people what the possibilities are if you take care of yourself and do the right thing.

Ive been blessed to be in a position to share (my experiences).

I coach young people. I have a group called BTP – Broadway Theatre Project.

Their silence is enough praise.

You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it, money till it’s spent, your wife till she’s joined a woman’s club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.

Every time we interact with another person at work, we have a choice to make: do we try to claim as much value as we can, or contribute value without worrying about what we receive in return?

If you want to create vital, long-lasting love, you must become a master of verbal & nonverbal appreciation.

Spare yourself from seeking love, approval, or appreciation-from anyone. And watch what happens in reality, just for fun.

Which led me into a new appreciation of middle [William Butler ] Yeats, of the short three-beat line and forward-driving syntax, and that paid in, in turn to a poem like Casualty in Field Work.

In the 1970s, for example, I found myself learning to relish the poetry of Andrew Marvell and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and getting a handle on poetry of plainer speech than I had dwelt with heretofore.

If I had a prayer, it would be this: “God, spare me from the desire for love, approval, or appreciation. Amen.”