Nothing the desert produces expresses it better than the unhappy growth of the tree yuccas

To underestimate one's thirst, to pass a given landmark to the right or left, to find a dry spring where one looked for running water - there is no help for any of these things.

No man can be stronger than his destiny.

Even the people who have it do not definitely know what genius is.

Life set itself to new processions of seed-time and harvest, the skin newly turned to seasonal variations, the very blood humming to new altitudes.

I suppose no man becomes a pocket hunter by first intention.

The utmost the American novelist can hope for, if he hopes at all to see his work included in the literature of his time, is that it may eventually be found to be along in the direction of the growing tip of collective consciousness. Preeminently the novelist's gift is that of access to the collective mind.