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 PickfordOne of the great penalties those of us who live our lives in full view of the public must pay is the loss of that most cherished birthright of man's, privacy.
Mary Pickford