“The public is a monster and that is why I am not eager to return to the stage.”

I cannot switch my voice. My voice is not like an elevator going up and down.

When the curtain rises, the only thing that speaks is courage.

You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.

That is the difference between good teachers and great teachers: good teachers make the best of a pupil’s means; great teachers foresee a pupil’s ends.

Love is so much better when you are not married.

It’s a terrible thing to go through life thinking that you have a rock on your side when you haven’t.

I was always too mature for my age – and not very happy. I had no young friends. I wish I could go back to those days. If I could only live it all again, how I would play and enjoy other girls. What a fool I was.

Don’t talk to me about rules, dear. Wherever I stay I make the goddam rules.

I will always be as difficult as necessary to achieve the best.

I will not be sued! I have the voice of an angel!

ART is domination. It’s making people think that for that precise moment in time there is only one way, one voice. Yours.

I want to be a mature artist with a different kind of thinking.

Paris dictates fashion to the whole world.

There must be a law against forcing children to perform at an early age. Children should have a wonderful childhood. They should not be given too much responsibility.

I don’t know what happens to me on stage. Something else seems to take over.

On stage, I am in the dark.

Tasteless is a life without your courage, for courage is the salt to your bread. So dare, dare to stare that monster in the eye, that fear that fiddles under your bed.

Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.

I want to be a monster too.

A god of kindness would be charitable to all. Your god of wrath and punishment is but a monstrous phantasy.

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. You truly are one frightening little monster.

My right hand is a monster.

We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.

That fame monster’s a fool, man. It really is.