Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.
I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.
There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.
What makes life worth living? Better surely, to yield to the stain of suicide blood in me and seek forgetfulness in the embrace of cold dark death.
I can write best in the silence and solitude of the night, when everyone has retired.
Jealously was an unjust and stifling thing.