John Barrymore citátov

„Často vstúpi šťastie bránou, o ktorej sme vôbec nevedeli, že sme ju nechali otvorenú.“

—  John Barrymore

„Proti skúsenej žene má muž jedinú zbraň - svoj klobúk. Vždy si ho môže nasadiť a utiecť.“

—  John Barrymore

„Na živote je najhoršie to, že je toľko krásnych žien, a tak strašne málo času.“

—  John Barrymore

„Ťažkosť zo životom spočíva v tom, že je na svete toľko krásnych žien a tak málo času.“

—  John Barrymore

„Gentleman je muž, ktorý uhádne, na čo žena myslí, a napriek tomu ju neodprevadí domov.“

—  John Barrymore

Varianta: Ozajstný džentlmen je muž, ktorý uhádne myšlienky ženy, a napriek tomu ju neodprevadí domov.

„So ženou treba bojovať s klobúkom. Schmatnúť ho a ujsť.“

—  John Barrymore

„Sex: vec, ktorá spotrebuje najmenej času a spôsobuje najviac problémov.“

—  John Barrymore

„Amerika je krajina, kde si za dolár kúpite zásobu aspirínu na celý život, a spotrebujete ju za dva týždne.“

—  John Barrymore

„Rozmýšľam o piatom sobáši. Prečo nie? Šalamún mal tisíc žien a jeho meno zostalo synonymom múdrosti.“

—  John Barrymore

Varianta: Uvažujem o piatej ženbe. Prečo nie? Šalamún mal tisíc žien a jeho meno zostalo synonymom múdrosti.

„Sú tri veci, ktoré dokáže žena urobiť z ničoho: šalát, šaty a manželskú scénu.“

—  John Barrymore

„Don't worry. For a man who has been dead for fifteen years I am in remarkable health. Love. Mr. Barrymore.“

—  John Barrymore

Telegram sent to Garson Kanin regarding Barrymore's rumored stroke following his collapse prior to a 1939 performance of Catherine Turney's My Dear Children at the Selwyn Theater in Chicago, as quoted in Kanin's Hollywood (1974), p. 45

„A person is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.“

—  John Barrymore

Quoted in Gene Fowler, Good Night, Sweet Prince (1943)

„The death of John Barrymore made us think again for a minute of F. Scott Fitzgerald. They were very different men: a lot alike. Undoubtedly, they both worked hard, but there was the same sense of a difficult technique easily mastered (too easily perhaps); there was the same legend of great physical magnetism, working incessantly for its own destruction; there was the same need for public confession, either desperate or sardonic; and there was always a good deal of time wasted, usually accompanied by the sweet smell of grapes. We have seen Scott Fitzgerald when everything he said was a childish parody of his own talent, and the last time we saw John Barrymore he was busy with a sick and humiliating parody of his. The similarity probably ends there. Up to the day he died, we believe, Fitzgerald still kept his original and eager devotion to his profession, along, we like to think, with the strict confidence that he might still achieve the strict perfection that was so often almost his. Barrymore, on the other hand, had given up long ago.“

—  John Barrymore

Wolcott Gibbs, Season in the Sun (1951)