My admiration for the phenomenon of Alcoholics Anonymous is boundless.

I never wanted a Guardian Angel. I didn’t ask for one. One was assigned to me.

I am rich from the bequests other gifted people have seen fit to leave to me.

One of the cruelest judgments sustained against me is that I have spoken out as a recovered alcoholic to stimulate my acting career.

Young Jimmy Dean fell off the world as suddenly as he had come.

Joan Crawford is a movie queen. I had never met one before. I know now what I don’t want to be.

A rich man can afford to be generous to many.

I’m glad I am a woman who once danced naked in the Mediterranean Sea at midnight.

If I have to climb to heaven on a ladder, I shall decline the invitation.

I am responsible for no one but myself.

When I am rehearsing for a play, I try to read nothing that might distract my concentration from the work in progress.

Only a certain breed of actor should ever even try to work for Orson Welles. I’m glad I’m one of that breed.

I find it next to impossible to remain politely silent when people prate to me about the glory of being given another chance to live happily ever after!

I cannot sustain hate for longer than a couple of years.

My name is real, which probably explains why I never became a superstar… how would that look in lights?

Most people call me Mercy. I like it.

My admiration for the phenomenon of Alcoholics Anonymous is boundless.

I have reached a state in life where I can buy a whole house full of chairs and can bump into them until they are black and blue.

Alcohol is a very patient drug. It will wait for the alcoholic to pick it up one more time.

I can only know what love is insofar as I can feel it.

So many people have really wanted to die. They seem ashamed to say so. I think it would help if they would say so.

I don’t think the Hollywood community is interested in what I can do. That’s all right. I’ve never looked for a job in my life, and I’m not going to start now. I have plenty to keep me busy.

I have always had a lot more trouble with my truths than with my deceits.

There are zillions of people who say that alcoholism is a disease, but not many of them believe it.

The great people I’ve met always have time for the niceties.

I don’t think I should have been married… to anybody.

My second marriage had a lot to do with alcohol.

My only true harmony lies deep within my soul, wherever that is. I know that somehow I am in tune with the universe.

I lose all control after two drinks of anything.

I’d stand in line for Confession with old people and little kids, and as the line moved up, I knew when I got into the box that I would lie! Again!

I believe in joy, but I believe in the flip-side, agony.

I think The Exorcist was the hardest work I’ve ever done.

I can choose to accelerate my disease to an alcoholic death or incurable insanity, or I can choose to live within my thoroughly human condition.

I loved playing the part of the feisty Annie Sullivan in The Miracle Worker.

Aside from my son, no person has ever shown for me the gentle concern I knew from Governor Adlai Stevenson.

At awards time, The Exorcist was nominated in 11 categories, everybody but the janitor was up for an Oscar. There was no category for what I did.

Like many alcoholics, I was a staggering woman in a chic apartment, sick and utterly disgusting.

I have no use for people who hunt for what they call sport.

I was taught to be anti-Jewish.

It is a remarkably beautiful piece of home furnishing, the Oscar. I used to keep it up in front of a mirror so that it looked like two.

Neiman-Marcus is one thing, and the Dallas Cowboys are another.

With two leftover husbands to account for, my wicked soul has just about shriveled and died.

I’ve always had bronchitis. I’ve been administered the Sacrament of Death three times for it.

I’d never been in play long enough for the flowers to die in the dressing room.