He read it for the same reason an animal tears at a wounded foot: to hurt the pain.

Let him ride a horse. He's a cowboy ain't he?

He read it for the same reason an animal tears at a wounded foot: to hurt the pain.

Like a dead man, only friction could make him warm or violence make him mobile.

Art Is a Way Out. Do not let life overwhelm you. When the old paths are choked with the débris of failure, look for newer and fresher paths. Art is just such a path. Art is distilled from suffering.

You once said to me that I talk like a man in a book. I not only talk, but think and feel like one. I have spent my life in books; literature has deeply dyed my brain its own colour. This literary colouring is a protective one--like the brown of the rabbit or the checks of the quail--making it impossible for me to tell where literature ends and I begin.

Every child, everywhere; in the whole world there was not one child who was not gravely, sweetly dancing.