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.

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

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

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

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.

I am sick and tired of publicity. I want no more of it. It puts me in a bad light. I just want to be forgotten.

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!

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

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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.

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

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