Misery, anger, indignation, discomfort-those conditions produce literature. Contentment-never. So there you are.

The beginning and ending of the secret of handling Arabs is unremitting study of them.

The dreamers of the day are dangerous... for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.

I wrote my will across the sky, in stars

To make war upon rebellion is messy and slow, like eating soup with a knife.

It seemed that rebellion must have an unassailable base, something guarded not merely from attack, but from the fear of it: such a base as we had in the Red Sea Parts, the desert, or in the minds of the men we converted to our creed.

You wonder what I am doing? Well, so do I, in truth. Days seem to dawn, suns to shine, evenings to follow, and then I sleep. What I have done, what I am doing, what I am going to do, puzzle and bewilder me. Have you ever been a leaf and fallen from your tree in autumn and been really puzzled about it? That’s the feeling.