The work is with me when I wake up in the morning; it is with me while I eat my breakfast in bed and run through the newspaper, while I shave and bathe and dress.

The doctor who applied a stethoscope to my heart was not satisfied. I was told to get my papers with the clerk in the outer hall. I was medically rejected.

The work is with me when I wake up in the morning; it is with me while I eat my breakfast in bed and run through the newspaper, while I shave and bathe and dress.

I must be like the princess who felt the pea through seven mattresses; each book is a pea.

The fools ran after me and I ran after the whores, foolish though I realized such a proceeding to be.

There is no other way of writing a novel than to begin at the beginning at to continue to the end.

They managed to find time... to tell me that there was no chance of my being accepted for service and that really I should be surprised to still be alive.

A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely afford to if he wanted.

Perhaps that suspicion of fraud enhances the flavor.

I have heard of novels started in the middle, at the end, written in patches to be joined together later, but I have never felt the slightest desire to do this.

Novel writing wrecks homes.

I formed a resolution to never write a word I did not want to write; to think only of my own tastes and ideals, without a thought of those of editors or publishers.

A whim, a passing mood, readily induces the novelist to move hearth and home elsewhere. He can always plead work as an excuse to get him out of the clutches of bothersome hosts.

With two people and luggage on board she draws four inches of water. Two canoe paddles will move her along at a speed reasonable enough in moderate currents.

The material came bubbling up inside like a geyser or an oil gusher. It streamed up of its own accord, down my arm and out of my fountain pen in a torrent of six thousand words a day.

There is still need to think and plan, but on a different scale, and along different lines.

Everything was in stark and dreadful contrast with the trivial crises and counterfeit emotions of Hollywood, and I returned to England deeply moved and emotionally worn out.

When I die there may be a paragraph or two in the newspapers. My name will linger in the British Museum Reading Room catalogue for a space at the head of a long list of books for which no one will ever ask.

Novel writing is far and away the most exhausting work I know.

One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams.

I have a toy giraffe on my bed. I've got photographs over my desk as well as a mask of a giraffe in my kitchen. I am totally hooked.

I was stuck at home in bed with me and got more and more involved with the Internet. I used it to keep in contact with friends and to make sure I was up to date with everything that was going on in the world.

This is the very womb and bed of enormity.

If kids like a picture book, they're going to read it at least 50 times. Read anything that often, and even minor imperfections start to feel like gravel in the bed.

The best thing about lying in bed late is that you learn to distinguish between first things and trivia, for whatever presses on you has to prove its importance before it makes you move.

I'm a 7 o'clock act. My people want to go to a show, a dinner and then go home and go to bed.

In so many interviews, they bring up the sexual aspect of the record. I've had some journalists say it sounds like I'm lying down in bed singing with a microphone. It gets so old!

Once, the parental bed collapsed because all the children sat on it at once.

I got sick and tired of my lady wearing ugly underwear to bed, so I turned to the Internet.

I miss Saturday morning, rolling out of bed, not shaving, getting into my car with my girls, driving to the supermarket, squeezing the fruit, getting my car washed, taking walks.

Theses officers were good friends, so it must have been a terrible argument, because the one who played chess with my father was so angry that he walked over to the dentist's house and got the dentist out of bed and shot him.

What happens when the guy who runs the reactor gets out of bed wrong or decides, for some reason, that he wants to override his instruction sheet some afternoon?

Mom and Dad would stay in bed on Sunday morning, but the kids would have to go to church.

I could be with a woman in a bed, for weeks even, and it would seem to me like three seconds. Or 300 years.

Well I was an asthmatic child. So that for most of my childhood I was in bed. Bedridden.

But for the first time in many years, I get to sleep in my own bed every night. I haven't done that, literally, in years. It seems like such a small thing, but it is so nice.

When I was playing I felt tired all the time. My recovery period was a lot longer than the other players. They'd be ok after an hour - I'd have to stay in bed till the next session.

Never get out of bed before noon.

This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.

So I'm more at home with my backpack, sleeping in a hotel room or on a bus or on an airplane, than I am necessarily on a bed. It's weird being here. It feels like I'm standing next to my real life.

Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.

A woman should say: "Have I made him happy? Is he satisfied? Does he love me more than he loved me before? Is he likely to go to bed with another woman?" If he does, then it's the wife's fault because she is not trying to make him happy.

Marriage is like life - it is a field of battle, not a bed of roses.

The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.

Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o'clock is a scoundrel.

I returned to upstate NY where I just laid in bed for days with a fever that just wouldn't go away. After more of this, I grew increasingly sure that this was not simply the flu!

To my embarrassment I was born in bed with a lady.

With me it is exceptionally true that the Presidency is no bed of roses.

I pushed myself way too hard during the first year of Veronica Mars and I got moody and run-down. Now I'll go to bed early instead of going out with friends. It's not always the most fun option, but I know I need at least eight hours of sleep to feel balanced.