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.

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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