“I couldn’t imagine a better place [Australia] for making a film on the end of the world.”

I think the main reason my marriages failed is that I always loved too well but never wisely.

The truth is that the only time I’m happy is when I’m doing absolutely nothing. I don’t understand people who like to work and talk about it like it was some sort of goddamn duty. Doing nothing feel like floating on warm water to me. Delightful, perfect.

Fame and fortune does not mean anything if you don’t have a happy home.

I either write the book or sell the jewels. And I’m kinda sentimental about the jewels.

Deep down, I’m pretty superficial.

So this was where lust was satisfied. If I’d been an old-time miner I’d have asked for my gold nugget back.

I was never an actress — none of us kids at Metro were. We were just good to look at.

All I have going is my looks. When my beauty goes, I’m through.

Sex isn’t all that important, but it is when you love someone very much.

I suffered, I really suffered, with all three of my husbands. And I tried damn hard with all three, starting each marriage certain that it was going to last until the end of my life. Yet none of them lasted more than a year or two.

I don’t mind growing old. If I have to go before my time, this is how I’ll go– cigarette in one hand, glass of scotch in the other.

And the news got worse. It appeared that there was this whole other person Jesus Christ whose birthday a lot of people tended to confuse with mine. I was personally outraged. It was a long time before I forgave the Lord for that.

I hate cheating. I won’t put up with it. I don’t do it myself.

What I’d really like to say about stardom is that it gave me everything I never wanted.

Sing me not a song; let me hear your recital of veneration and respect; this I will listen to over and over when I share your need of pleasing.

When I’m old and gray, I want to have a house by the sea. And paint. With a lot of wonderful chums, good music, and booze around. And a damn good kitchen to cook in.

I have tried this letting go part and ended up holding you closer then before. – everyday.

Ends are for yesterday, not tomorrows.

How many times have you reached an end of a story, only to find it was the turn of a page?

When you come to the end, that’s where God begins.

Domestic happiness is the end of almost all our pursuits, and the common reward of all our pains. When men find themselves forever barred from this delightful fruition, they are lost to all industry, and grow careless of all their worldly affairs. Thus they become bad subjects, bad relations, bad friends, and bad men.

I cannot start a story or chapter without knowing how it ends. Of course, it rarely ends that way.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

My eyes close. I am here and not here. A waking nap? A flight to the end of the galaxy and perhaps a couple of billion light-years beyond?