I was going to live on my salary or go down swinging.
What a different world it was when I first sailed for Europe in 1930, with my mother, sister, and brother to spend six months abroad.
I needed to be accepted, not humored. I intended to act.
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.
Day after day, I spent long afternoons in the talent pool, being told how to walk, how to talk, how to sit.
Children don't understand about people loving each other and then suddenly not.
I was plunged into what was known as the debutante social whirl. This was one of the ways fathers justified their own hard work and sacrifices.
I ask myself: would I have been any worse off if I had stayed home or lived on a farm, and instead of shock treatments received rest and quiet and the good medication?
Throughout my career, I was to be cast as a frontier girl, an aristocrat, an Arabian, a Eurasian, a Polynesian, and a Chinese.
I do not recall spending long hours in front of a mirror loving my reflection.
Rehearsals and screening rooms are often unreliable because they can't provide the chemistry between an audience and what appears on the stage or screen.
I never understood the theory, once popular among doctors, that blamed mental disorders on too little or too much mother love. My own mother was my darling.
When I met Jack Kennedy, he was a serious young man with a dream. He was not a womanizer, not as I understood the term.
In my early days in Hollywood I tried to be economical. I designed my own clothes, much to my mother's distress.
I remember the 1940s as a time when we were united in a way known only to that generation. We belonged to a common cause-the war.
In later years, during what might be called my gray-outs — when I was conscious but not myself — I craved foods that were almost always fattening.
It was the fashion of the time, still is, to feel that all actors are neurotic, or they would not be actors.
The Howard Hughes I knew began to change after his plane crash in 1941.
For years it never occurred to me to question the judgment of those in charge at the studio.
Unlike the stage, I never found it helpful to be good in a bad movie.
I had no romantic interest in Gable. I considered him an older man.
I had known Cole Porter in Hollywood and New York, spent many a warm hour at his home, and met the talented and original people who were drawn to him.
I had been introduced to psychotherapy, in which the doctors let you talk, talk, talk, until you find the source of your problem or find another doctor.
I was fortunate enough to work under directors who were, most of them, brilliant, emotional men.
I used up every cent I had earned as an actress.
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