I've learned to not care. There are always going to be ridiculous rumours.
Ah, well, the truth is always one thing, but in a way it's the other thing, the gossip, that counts. It shows where people's hearts lie.
It is one of my sources of happiness never to desire a knowledge of other people's business.
Gossip is a sort of smoke that comes from the dirty tobacco-pipes of those who diffuse it: it proves nothing but the bad taste of the smoker.
trying to squash a rumor is like trying to unring a bell.
Rumor travels faster, but it don't stay put as long as truth.
I hate to spread rumours, but what else can one do with them?
There are a terrible lot of lies going about the world, and the worst of it is that half of them are true.
Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.
My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.
The things most people want to know about are usually none of their business.
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.
Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.
Gossip is what no one claims to like, but everybody enjoys.
The biggest liar in the world is They Say.
No one gossips about other people's secret virtues.
Avoid inquisitive persons, for they are sure to be gossips, their ears are open to hear, but they will not keep what is entrusted to them.
Gossip is the opiate of the oppressed.
Forget the image, forget the ensemble, forget the rumours, forget the short skirts, the big hair, whatever! I owe this to the fans and I will never forget you so I want to accept this award on behalf of all of you.
When rumours increase, and when there is an abundance of noise and clamour, believe the second report.
Never believe a rumour until you hear it officially denied.
We've had a day of great drama and of humour too. The rumour mill is now taking over
Rumour is information distilled so finely that it can filter through anything. It does not need doors and windows -- sometimes it does not need people. It can exist free and wild, running from ear to ear without ever touching lips.
There is no knowing beyond that membrane, the meniscus of death. What can be seen from here is distorted, refracted. All we can know are those untrustworthy glimpses--that and rumour. The prattle. The dead gossip: it is the reverberation of that gossip against the surface tension of death that the better mediums hear. It is like listening to whispered secrets through a toilet door. It is a crude and muffled susurrus.
Actually, I would love to make a music video. Maybe it would finally put to rest those persistent rumours that have followed me throughout my career - particularly when I was on camera performing - that I had died.
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