With fame, you know, you can read about yourself, somebody else's ideas about you, but what's important is how you feel about yourself - for survival and living day to day with what comes up.

Fame doesn't fulfill you. It warms you a bit, but that warmth is temporary.

No one loves the real me inside. they're all in love with my fame, my stardom.

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

What wretched doings come from the ardor of fame; the love of truth alone would never make one man attack another bitterly.

If one has a good disposition, what other virtue is needed? If a man has fame, what is the value of other ornamentation?