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 PickfordI was forced to live far beyond my years when just a child, now I have reversed the order and I intend to remain young indefinitely.
Mary Pickford