These critics who crucify me do not guess the littlest part of my sincerity. They must be burned in a blaze. I cannot learn from them.

Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.

I hope I have found myself, my work, my happiness - under the light of the western skies.

Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.

It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.

I can write best in the silence and solitude of the night, when everyone has retired.