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

This creed of the desert seemed inexpressible in words, and indeed in thought.

I wrote my will across the sky, in stars

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

Nine-tenths of tactics are certain, and taught in books: but the irrational tenth is like the kingfisher flashing across the pool, and that is the test of generals.

I had dropped one form and not taken on the other, and was become like Mohammed's coffin in our legend, with a resultant feeling of intense loneliness in life, and a contempt, not for other men, but for all they do.

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