Happy is the man who hath never known what it is to taste of fame—to have it is a purgatory, to want it is a hell!

Worldly fame is but a breath of wind that blows now this way, now that, and changes names as it changes in direction.

A woman’s greatest glory is to be little talked about by men, whether for good or ill.

What is popularly called fame is nothing but an empty name and a legacy from paganism.

I’m afraid of losing my obscurity. Genuineness only thrives in the dark. Like celery.

Avoid the talk of men. For talk is mischievous, light, and easily raised, but hard to bear and difficult to be rid of. Talk never wholly dies away when many people voice her: even talk is in some ways divine.

Those who know the joys and miseries of celebrities when they have passed the age of forty know how to defend themselves.

If fame is only to come after death, I am in no hurry for it.

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

How sweet it is to have people point and say, “There he is.”

Fame is no sanctuary from the passing of youth. Suicide is much easier and more acceptable in Hollywood than growing old gracefully.

We all have a contract with the public—in us they see themselves, or what they would like to be.

Being a star has made it possible for me to get insulted in places where the average Negro could never hope to go and get insulted.