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

There lurks in every human heart a desire of distinction which inclines every man first to hope and then to believe that nature has given him something peculiar to himself. 

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.

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.

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

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

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

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.

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!

Reality is always the foe of famous names.

I won’t be happy till I’m as famous as God.

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

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