The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.

Adam Larey gazed with hard and wondering eyes down the silent current of the red river upon which he meant to drift away into the desert

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

This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.

I love my work but do not know how I write it.

I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.

Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.