Madness is only a variety of mental nonconformity and we are all individualists here.

I have found that each of my books has developed out of something I have written in a previous book. Some thought evidently unfinished.

Readers themselves, I think, contribute to a book. They add their own imaginations, and it is as though the writer only gave them something to work on, and they did the rest.

It is impossible to be among the woods animals on their own ground without a feeling of expanding one's own world, as when any foreign country is visited.

But to make the intangible tangible, to pick the emotion out of the air and make it true for others, is both the blessing and the curse of the writer, for the thing between book covers is never as beautiful as the thing he imagined.

Ants in the house seem to be, not intruders, but the owners.

Information can be passed from one to another, like a silver dollar. There's absolutely no wisdom except what you learn for yourself.