It's all fleeting. As fame is fleeting, so are all the trappings of fame fleeting. The money, the clothes, the furniture.

Hollywood is so fake and people need to realize that people are just people, and you, too, don't need to be born into something or have money or have whatever product someone is hawking on you.

I think there are different kinds of fame. There's fame which is plastic and about paparazzi and money and being rich, and then there's the fame, which is when no one knows who you are but everyone wants to know who you are.

When you first get money, you buy all these things so no one thinks you're mean, and you spread it around. You get a chauffeur and you find yourself thrown around the back of this car and you think, I was happier when I had my own little car! I could drive myself!

The world looks with some awe upon a man who appears unconcernedly indifferent to home, money, comfort, rank, or even power and fame. The world feels not without a certain apprehension, that here is some one outside its jurisdiction; someone before whom its allurements may be spread in vain; some one strangely enfranchised, untamed, untrammelled by convention, moving independent of the ordinary currents of human action.

Some artists are working to buy the mansion or whatever the element of fame must bear, but I spend all my money on my show.