The printed page was like wine to me.

I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, & am content.

My characters are more like men than these real men are, see. They're rough and rude, they got hands and they got bellies. They hate and they lust; break the skin of civilization and you find the ape, roaring and red-handed.

All fled—all done, so lift me on the pyre— The Feast is over, and the lamps expire.

I never saw a man fight as Conan fought. He put his back to the courtyard wall, and before they overpowered him the dead men were strewn in heaps thigh-deep about him. But at last they dragged him down, a hundred against one.

The printed page was like wine to me.

The more I see of what you call civilization, the more highly I think of what you call savagery!