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.

It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.

There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood.

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

It is all right you're saying you do not need other people, but there are a lot of people who need you.

When a man publishes a book, there are so many stupid things said that he declares he'll never do it again. The praise is almost always worse than the criticism.

I think the whole glory of writing lies in the fact that it forces us out of ourselves and into the lives of others.