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!

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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