The myth of Bardot is finished, but Brigitte is me.
I am leaving the town to the invaders: increasingly numerous, mediocre, dirty, badly behaved, shameless tourists.
I am no mother, and I won’t be one.
There is a French proverb: To live happy, live hidden. Where can Brigitte Bardot hide?
I think animals help us live; they’ve helped me live. It was only when I began to devote myself to protecting animals that I blossomed completely. Taking care of them, looking out for them, has given my life true meaning, a meaning I hope future generations can experience.
My wild and free side unsettled some, and unwedged others.
I tried to make myself as pretty as possible and even then I thought I was ugly. I found it madly difficult to go out, to show myself.
In a democracy one must have the right to express oneself and that’s what I do, even if it displeases.
Nobody has any security in loving me.
I only want to protect animals from barbarous, cruel, inhuman and backward rituals.
I wanted to be myself. Only myself.
People have already dirtied my name too much.
What does it mean, being a woman?
I knew I had to be the best at something, otherwise I would be nothing. I knew I wanted the world to know about Brigitte Bardot.
I never force myself to dance or sing.
The page has turned. Cinema is finished for me.
The first time that I came to Cannes, I think it was in 1953, I was 18 and unknown.
I have never put a gun to anyone’s head to obligate him to marry me.
Success is unpredictable and fragile.
I am a woman that defends animals, right, left, and in the centre. Animals aren’t political.
I have no regrets. If I wanted to keep acting, I would have never left the cinema.