“My body grew hot, then cold. I tried to eat the bed sheets. My heart beat madly. Every joint in my body ached. When I took the cure they took it all away from me.”

The stage is near and dear to me.

To portray a maniac offers a compelling challenge.

Every actor is somewhat mad, or else he’d be a plumber or a bookkeeper or a salesman.

I’ll be truthful. The weekly paycheck is the most important thing to me.

I’ve been using narcotics for 20 years.

To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious.

The vampire was a complete change from the usual romantic characters I was playing, but it was a success.

I guess I’m pretty much of a lone wolf. I don’t say I don’t like people at all, but, to tell you the truth, I only like it then if I have a chance to look deep into their hearts and their minds.

You can’t make people believe in you if you play a horror part with your tongue in your cheek.

The love-bite, it is the beginning. You will be irresistible.

That is different, to have someone think that I am evil when I really am not.

I don’t have a dime left. I am dependent on my friends for food and a small old-age pension.

Because of my language and the pantomime with which most Europeans accompany their speech, I was catalogued as a heavy.

Women have a predestination to suffering.

Circumstances made me the theatrical personality I am, which many people believe is also a part of my personal life.

Death, the final, triumphant lover.

I adore being between you and these sheets.