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.

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.

Fame is but the empty noise of madmen.

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

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