If I can write everything out plainly, perhaps I will myself understand better what has happened.

If people did not want their stories told, it would be better for them to keep away from me.

I feel that I am writing out of a full life. I am a rich man, rich in men known, in adventures had. I am rich with living.

I have seldom written a story, long or short, that I did not have to write and rewrite. There are single stories of mine that have taken me ten or twelve years to get written.

The writing of words can lead to all sorts of absurdities.

As time passed and he grew to know people better, he began to think of himself as an extraordinary man, one set apart from his fellows. He wanted terribly to make his life a thing of great importance, and as he looked about at his fellow men and saw how like clods they lived it seemed to him that he could not bear to become also such a clod.

The writer, an old man with a white moustache, had some difficulty getting into bed.