I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.

I hate birthdays.

I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.

Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.

I need this wild life, this freedom.

I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.

I will see this game of life out to its bitter end.

I love my work but do not know how I write it.

The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.

I can write best in the silence and solitude of the night, when everyone has retired.

Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.

I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.

I wrote for nearly six hours. When I stopped, the dark mood, as if by magic, had folded its cloak and gone away.

The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.

I arise full of eagerness and energy, knowing well what achievement lies ahead of me.

What is writing but an expression of my own life?

I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.

What makes life worth living? Better surely, to yield to the stain of suicide blood in me and seek forgetfulness in the embrace of cold dark death.

No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.

There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.

I did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.

Today I began the novel that I determined to be great.

I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.

It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.

Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.

Love of man for woman - love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.

Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.

This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.

These critics who crucify me do not guess the littlest part of my sincerity. They must be burned in a blaze. I cannot learn from them.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant as the years multiply.

Then the wind blew cool through the pinyons on the rim. There was a sweet tang of cedar and sage on the air and that indefinable fragrance peculiar to the canyon country of Arizona.

If I fished only to capture fish my fishing trips would have ended long ago.

Love grows more tremendously full swift poignant as the years multiply.

Art teaches nothing, except the significance of life.

The present contains nothing more than the past, and what is found in the effect was already in the cause.

There are those, I know, who will reply that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream. They are right. It is. It is the American Dream.

Well, after I had the heart attack, it was a very simple choice. What the doctor told me I did and I did it religiously. I ate nothing but lean turkey breast or chicken breast or a piece of fish that was very lean. I mean I stayed away from everything.

My life is so full of surprises, nothing surprises me any more.

Excuses change nothing, but make everyone feel better.

It is the privilege of the gods to want nothing, and of godlike men to want little.

They haul you up there for, you know, week after week in this kind of star chamber proceeding. Then at the end of it they say, well, we found nothing, but now it's time for special counsel.

Why are there beings at all, instead of Nothing?

Always, your work is the same: You have to tell a story, you have to make a character. It doesn't matter if there are thousands of dollars, millions behind it, or if there is nothing.

For years the Trio did nothing but play for musicians and other hip people. We practically starved to death.

There's nothing worse than talking about yourself to find out that you're not that interesting.

In the kingdom of heaven it is His work that will be crowned, not yours. Anything in you that He has not wrought Himself will count for nothing.

If nothing is to be done in the given situation, he must invent plausible reasons for doing nothing; and if something must be done, he must suggest the something. The unpardonable sin is to propose nothing, when action is imperative.

There is nothing more agreeable in life than to make peace with the Establishment - and nothing more corrupting.