Quotes About Fame

If you are extremely well known and have a very desirable product, then yes, you probably do suffer a bit from piracy, in the same way that if you make a lot of money, you pay more in taxes than if you don't make any money.

Before 'Titanic,' yes, I had done some things and, yes, I had been nominated for an Academy Award, but I had never been sort of world-famous. And I suppose, yes, I am really famous now. But I feel embarrassed to say that because it's just a bit daft for me.

Yes, I do get recognized in public. It's pretty nice.

Well it's very flattering to be on Twitter and have so many followers - but yes, it can be very unforgiving too. It is an invasion of privacy, but the choice is entirely mine.

Yes I have made a lot of money and I have a lot of respect, my films have done well, and I know there are loads of loads of people who look up to me and really love me. I really just thought this is like a strange dream. I have never thought this is a success - I don't have a standard.

Yes, I was on the cover of 'Vogue,' but girls on the cover of 'Vogue' are the most scared of rejection. Models are the most insecure of them all. Actually, actors and actresses are, and then musicians, and then models!

I don't conduct myself like a rock 'n' roll star in my day-to-day living. Am I a celebrity? Yes. Do people recognize me on the street? Yes, they do. But at the same time, it's not a media center out here. People get used to you.

Yes, I love the movie business. In fact, there's no business like show business.

Yes, I love the glamour industry. I love the work that I've done so far. But it's not as if I have this biting ambition to be at the top.

Yes, I wrote songs. I was becoming kind of an Enrique Iglesias kind of a singer, with those ballads and cheesy romantic things.

Yes, I'm going to be the President of the United States. You know why? You think you can get chicks by being in the movies? You can really get chicks by being the President.

Yes, my life has changed in terms of the fame and the success, the number of eye balls on you all the time. I like to believe that it has not changed my ideology, the person that I am. I have people like Anna and my mom, my friends who tell me that.

I have seen really happy people in my life sing really well. Yes, when people get fame, then there's depression.

My parents have Google Alerts on me. So they'll often times send me an e-mail and be like, 'Hey did you know this?' And then I'll be like, 'Well, it is, like, my life. So yes, I did know that.' Or, 'That's not even true. I don't know where you read that.' I have Googled myself, yes. But my parents really have Google Alerts on me.

I don't mind if somebody comes up to me and shakes my hand, but if I'm in the middle of a restaurant and somebody asks me for a picture, I can be a jerk and say no, or I can say yes and draw more attention to myself, which is exactly the opposite of what I want.

Fame is really strange. One day you're not famous, and then the next day you are, and the odd thing is that you know intellectually that nothing in the world is different. What mattered to you yesterday are the same things that matter today, and the rules all still apply - yet everyone looks at you differently.

I was informed yesterday that there's a Twitter account for my laugh. Very hard to get used to things like that. Pretty amazing.

I do get recognised, but if I'm in a restaurant, I'll get one person noticing me, not the whole place. It is uncomfortable when people try and sneak a picture; sometimes, I don't feel like being seen. But I don't stop myself doing stuff. I go to Barry's Bootcamp and yoga just like anyone else.

I don't like Los Angeles. The people are awful and terribly shallow, and everybody wants to be famous but nobody wants to play the game. I'm from New York. I will kill to get what I need.

Since the Puffy Combs case in New York, I will not try any more criminal cases.

My dream when I was 14 was someday I could have a David Levine caricature of me in 'The New York Review of Books.'

The great 'New York Times' columnist Dave Anderson famously slept one year in a child's race-car bed. There he was, Pulitzer Prize and all, snoring as his feet dangled over the rear tires of Lightning McQueen.

One week before my 17th birthday, I had a blind date with June Rose, a television actress on network soap operas, a model, and a regular on the popular Dick Clark's Saturday night 'American Bandstand' show from New York. We were married five years later, one week after my graduation from Columbia.

Still, the change is nearly indescribable - going from total obscurity to walking down a street in New York and having everybody turn and look; to feel the temperature of a room change when I walked in.