Getting famous is easy; making peace with it — that’s crazy. 

Fame is height, for the short. 

Fame thinks it’s invincible — even after it isn’t. 

Uninvited shame’s the bane of fame. 

Fame — wolf’s bane. 

Fame creates its own version of reality; reality eventually corrects that. 

Our famous self is not often our true self. 

Fame is like surgery: They take your arm, place you on a flat surface, remove a piece of you; a long recovery is required. 

Famous — it seems to be relationally heinous. 

Known to the bone, fame’s only way home.

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