My departure from Hollywood was described as a walk-out. No one understood that I was cracking up.

I knew I could not cope with the future unless I was able to rediscover the past.

There were days that I worked all the time, without a layoff, or a rest, finishing one picture and reporting for another sometimes on the same day.

It is difficult to write about any form of mental disease, especially your own, without sounding as if you were examining a bug under glass.

I dated dozens of young men, had fun with all, made commitments to none.

I loved to eat. For all of Hollywood's considerable rewards, I was hungry for most of those twenty years.

I learned quickly at Columbia that the only eye that mattered was the one on the camera.