“I’m a sworn enemy of convention. I despise the conventional in anything, even the arts.”

Jack Kennedy always said to me, Hedy, get involved. That’s the secret of life. Try everything. Join everything. Meet everybody.

The world isn’t getting any easier. With all these new inventions I believe that people are hurried more and pushed more, The hurried way is not the right way; you need time for everything – time to work, time to play, time to rest.

I don’t have any gnawing guilt over contributing to any unhappiness suffered by my husbands. They were as much to blame as I was.

Dates with actors, finally, just seemed to me evenings of shop talk. I got sick of it after a hile. So the more famous I became, the more I narrowed down my choices.

Compromise and tolerance are magic words. It took me 40 years to become philosophical.

I have never seen a wrestling match or a prize fight, and I don’t want to. When I find out a man is interested in these sports, I drop him.

All my six husbands married me for different reasons.

I was born an only child in Vienna, Austria. My father found hours to sit by me by the library fire and tell fairy stories.

Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid.

It is easier for women to succeed in business, the arts, and politics in America than in Europe.

Dirt makes a man look masculine. Let your hair blow in the wind, and all that. It’s OK. All you have to do is look neat when you have to look neat.

I’m fifty-one years old, but I’m not through yet. I have lived a full life, and intend packing in quite a lot more.

I appreciate subtlety. I have never enjoyed a kiss in front of the camera. There’s nothing to it except not getting your lipstick smeared.

It’s funny about men and women. Men pay in cash to get them and pay in cash to get rid of them. Women pay emotionally coming and going. Neither has it easy.

I was in constant demand, in my professional life and my personal life.

Perhaps my problem in marriage-and it is the problem of many women-was to want both intimacy and independence. It is a difficult line to walk, yet both needs are important to a marriage.

Politics is not an end, but a means. It is not a product, but a process. It is the art of government.

The best time I ever had with Joan Crawford was when I pushed her down the stairs in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

Art to me is a question mark.

He who would do good to another must do it in Minute Particulars; General Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite and flatterer: For Art and Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.

When you’re young and everything dramatic is exciting, you start to believe that hype that, in order to be an artist, you have to suffer. I’ve graduated from that school.

You don’t know how much artists go through to make it look so easy. It’s all in the practice.

Dramatic art in her opinion is knowing how to fill a sweater.

The out-of-work actor wears out more than shoe leather. The very sensibilities that make him an artist are shattered by the disregard he is shown as a human being.