Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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!

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

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

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.

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.

Reality is always the foe of famous names.

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

Now there is fame! Of all—hunger, misery, the incomprehension by the public—fame is by far the worst. It is the castigation by God of the artist. It is sad. It is true.

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

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

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

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