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These words could have been written for the flickering 'stars' of fickle 21st-century celebrity culture, a warning for all the wannabe Jades, Parises and Jordans attracted to the world of easy-come, easy-go fame.
It comes as a surprise, then, to learn that they were spoken 75 years ago - and by one of fame's greatest ever victims, the Hollywood sex goddess Jean Harlow.
Her heyday was, as now, a time of economic recession.
On the very day she signed her first film contract in October 1929, Wall Street crashed and America and the world slipped into recession and then depression.
Strangely, outside in the real world, instead of disgust at the stars' indulgences in those hard times, there was a fascination on the part of the public - as if the reflection of the bright lights could lift the gloom.
People lapped up every last titillating detail the gossip columns and the fan magazines dished out.
What they were allowed to read about the stars' lives, however, was a heavily blue-pencilled account that reflected the family values and upright morality the studios were keen to promote.
She was probably destined always to play the role of a man-eating trollop, he added, 'but nobody ever starved possessing what she's got'.
Yet there was an era when she fought for pole position on the world stage with legendary divas such as Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford and Tallulah Bankhead, and outsparked them all for sheer nerve and sexiness.
As a turn-on, she even 'out It-ed' the 'It-girl' herself, her silent-screen contemporary Clara Bow.
The original 'blonde bombshell', with peroxide platinum locks and a sassy face that sent men wild and women racing to their hairstylist to copy her look, is barely remembered now.
Not one of the three dozen films she starred in would figure in even the most arcane cinema buff's top 100 list.
In one of these, she was a well-heeled woman climbing out of a taxi and walking into a plush hotel.