Fame is a four-letter word; and like tape or zoom or face or pain or life or love, what ultimately matters is what we do with it.
As you get older, the questions come down to about two or three. How long? And what do I do with the time I've got left?
You don't need the fame to be vital.
What is fame? a fancied life in others' breath.
If we want to be known in heaven and feared in hell we must be willing to lose our reputation here on earth.
Money will buy money's worth; but the thing men call fame, what is it?
The fame thing is interesting because I never wanted to be famous, and I never dreamt I would be famous. You know, my fantasy of being a famous writer, and again there's a slight disconnect with reality which happens a lot with me. I imagined being a famous writer would be like being like Jane Austen.
If cash comes with fame, come fame; if cash comes without fame, come cash.
Fame! it is the flower of a day, that dies when the next sun rises.
The love of fame is a passion natural and universal, which no man, however high or mean, however wise or ignorant, was yet able to despise.
I would love to be in the Hall Of Fame.
If you're not careful, you can get a grossly over-inflated opinion about your popularity.
An earthly immortality belongs to a great and good character. History embalms it; it lives in its moral influence, in its authority, in its example, in the memory of the words and deeds in which it was manifested; and as every age adds to the illustrations of its efficacy, it may chance to be the best understood by a remote posterity.
The love of letters is the forlorn hope of the man of letters. His ruling passion is the love of fame.
What a wretched thing is all fame! A renown of the highest sort endures, say, for two thousand years. And then? Why, then, a fathomless eternity swallows it. Work for eternity; not the meagre rhetorical eternity of the periodical critics, but for the real eternity wherein dwelleth the Divine.
Fame is a revenue payable only to our ghosts; and to deny ourselves all present satisfaction, or to expose ourselves to so much hazard for this, were as great madness as to starve ourselves, or fight desperately for food, to be laid on our tombs after our death.
Tis a petty kind of fame At best, that comes of making violins; And saves no masses, either. Thou wilt go To purgatory none the less.
If fame comes after death, I'm in no hurry for it. [Lat., Si post fata venit gloria non propero.]
In the career of female fame, there are few prizes to tie obtained which can vie with the obscure state of a beloved wife or a happy mother.
The definition of success to me is not necessarily a price tag, not fame, but having a good life, and being able to say I did the right thing at the end of the day.
Mrs. Nixon and I share the sorrow of millions of Americans at the death of Louis Armstrong. One of the architects of an American art form, a free and individual spirit, and an artist of worldwide fame, his great talents and magnificent spirit added richness and pleasure to all our lives.
I have enemies I've never met - that's fame.
Fame means absolutely nothing except a good table at a restaurant.
Fame invades your private life. It takes away from the time that you spend with friends, and the time that you can work. It tends to isolate you from the real world.
Fame is a kind of death because it arrests life around the person in the public eye. If one is recognized everywhere, one begins to feel like Medusa. People stop their normal life and actions and freeze into staring manikins. "We can never catch people or life unawares," as I wrote to my mother, in an outburst of frustration. "It is always looking at us."
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