What a heavy burden is a name that has become too famous.

And what will history say of me a thousand years hence?

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

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

Wood burns because it has the proper stuff in it, and a man becomes famous because he has the proper stuff in him.

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.

I would much rather have men ask why I have no statue than why I have one.

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.

Men are generally more pleased with a widespread than with a great reputation.

When I do a show, the whole show revolves around me, and if I don’t show up, they can just forget it.

Most authors seek fame, but I seek for justice—a holier impulse than ever entered into the ambitious struggles of the votaries of that fickle, flirting goddess.

All people have the common desire to be elevated in honor, but all people have something still more elevated in themselves without knowing it.

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