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

Fame and success have brought me everything, except a loving, on-going relationship. I seem to eat people up and destroy them no matter how hard I try to make things work. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming with fear because I'm so alone. That's why I go out looking for someone who will love me, even if it's just for a one-night stand.

Sometimes, when I'm alone, I cry, 'cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life, but take no form. I cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confide in, I would cry among my treasured friends, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on?

I just don't know how to deal with so many people giving me that much affection. I never had that in my life.

Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises.

Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident; the only earthly certainty is oblivion.