I’m afraid of losing my obscurity. Genuineness only thrives in the dark. Like celery.

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

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.

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

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

If fame is only to come after death, I am in no hurry for it.