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

He who treats another human being as divine thereby assigns to himself the relative status of a child or an animal.

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.

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.

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

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

Fame will go by and, so long, I’ve had you, fame. If it goes by, I’ve always known it was fickle. So at least it’s something I experienced, but that’s not where I live.

They are trying to make me into a fixed star. I am an irregular planet.

FAMOUS, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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

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

Possessions, outward success, publicity, luxury—to me these have always been contemptible. I believe that a simple and unassuming manner of life is best for everyone, best both for the body and the mind.

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