He certainly was a good reader, and splendidly thrilling and stormy and tragic, but it was a damage to me, because I have never since been able to read Shakespeare in a calm and sane way. I cannot rid it of his explosive interlardings, they break in everywhere with their irrelevant ldquo;What in hell are you up to now! pull her down! more! more! there now, steady as you go,rdquo; and the other disorganizing interruptions that were always leaping from his mouth. When I read Shakespeare now, I can hear them as plainly as I did in that long-departed time fifty-one years ago. I never regarded Ealers readings as educational. Indeed they were a detriment to me.
