Having lost Rhett, she can always return to the land - to Tara, to soak up its strength. . . . Tara! . . . Home. I'll go home, and I'll think of some way to get him back! After all, tomorrow is another day!

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Life is too short to work so hard.

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I cannot let well enough alone. I get restless. I have to be doing different things.

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Sometimes I dread the truth of the lines I say. But the dread must never show.

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My friends, when I was young, were always older than I was, and I've always liked them. And I love old men and old ladies, really. But I've known more elderly men, like Max Beerbohm, like Beranard Berenson, like Somerset Maugham, Winston Churchill-I'd put him first, anyway-what they say is so wise and so good. They know what they're talking about.

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Fiddle-dee-dee. War, war, war. This war talk's spoiling all the fun at every party this spring. I get so bored I could scream. Besides, there isn't going to be any war. . . . If either of you boys says 'war' just once again, I'll go in the house and slam the door.

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I realize that the memories I cherish most are not the first night successes, but of simple, everyday things: walking through our garden in the country after rain; sitting outside a cafe in Provence, drinking the vin de pays; staying at a little hotel in an English market town with Larry, in the early days after our marriage, when he was serving in the Fleet Air Arm, and I was touring Scotland, so that we had to make long treks to spend weekends together.

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Dear Lord, I'm so grateful I'm still loved.

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I'm not a film star; I am an actress. Being a film star is such a false life, lived for fake values and for publicity.

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I think acting is an important profession, because acting can give you pleasure and can teach you at the same time, and that is a good thing.

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