'Fame' exhausts me.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Fame is a can of worms I haven't really had to contend with.
Fame is like a river, that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and solid.
Fame is the echo of actions, resounding them to the world, save that the echo repeats only the last art, but fame relates all, and often more than all.
Fame is an interesting phenomenon.
Fame is hollow. It amplifies what is there. If there is any self-doubt, or hatred, or lack of ability to connect with people, fame will magnify it.
Fame is an odd thing. It bugs you a little bit, but it's really not bad.
As for fame, it can go to your head and you can become full of yourself.
Fame is, I think, just a disgusting by-product of what I do.
I've always been profoundly ambivalent about fame. I think it just eats the reality out of you and it can be intoxicating because I like some of it.
Fame is like a big piece of meringue - it's beautiful, and you keep eating it, but it doesn't really fill you up.