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.