Sigh: from the New York Times:
Live theater has a built-in bittersweetness born of its ephemeral nature. The magic is here and now, and then it’s gone forever — or at least until the next revival. (And remember, enthusiasm for a revival is often met with a cluck-clucking sound and an indulgent smile from those who were around for the first production.) That’s why being present at the moment when a work of achieved art passes into history can be inordinately moving, a reminder that beauty itself is mostly an evanescent thing in life.
Of course I will be there next Sunday for the final performance of Gypsy! I was there for all the beginnings! And I am very consistent. Also: crazy!