It’s a chain of accidents. When you step into Hollywood, you wind yourself into thousands of chains of accidents. If all of the thousands happen to come out exactly right-and the chance of that figures out to be one in eight million-then you’ll be a star.

This power that I’m supposed to have over women was never noticed when I was a stage actor on Broadway. I don’t know when I got it. And by God, I can’t explain it.

Only interested in himself and profiting from the war as an unscrupulous entrepreneur, and not in being a patriot: “I believe in Rhett Butler. He’s the only cause I know. The rest doesn’t mean much to me.”

Types really don’t matter. I have been accused of preferring blondes. But I have known some mighty attractive redheads, brunettes, and yes, women with grey hair. Age, height, weight haven’t anything to do with glamour.

I don’t want a lot of strangers looking down at my wrinkles and my big fat belly when I’m dead.

Clark Gable was the only real he-man I’ve ever known, of all the actors I’ve met.

I’m no actor and I never have been. What people see on the screen is me.

Single men never have any problems. I suppose that the public builds some kind of idea from what they’ve seen of me on the screen.

I’m just a lucky slob from Ohio who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

I don’t discuss women at all with anyone. There are good qualities in all women. Some may be lacking in some of these qualities and should have them. I’m liable to say so and hurt their feelings, and it wouldn’t be meant that way at all.