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.

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

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.

Avoid the talk of men. For talk is mischievous, light, and easily raised, but hard to bear and difficult to be rid of. Talk never wholly dies away when many people voice her: even talk is in some ways divine.

Famous, adj. Conspicuously miserable.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.