I think Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about a robin who loved a white rose. He loved it so much that he pierced his breast and let his heart's blood turn the white rose red. Maybe this sounds very sentimental, but for anybody who has loved a career as much as I've loved mine, there can be no short cuts.
Mary PickfordThe refined simplicity should develop out of the complex. It would have been more logical if silent pictures had grown out of the talkie instead of the other way around.
Mary Pickford