Before exulatation had vanished, I felt as if I had been granted a marvellous privilege. Out of the inscrutable waters a beautiful fish had somehow leaped to show me fleetingly the life and spirit of his element.

Recipe For Greatness - To bear up under loss; To fight the bitterness of defeat and the weakness of grief; To be victor over anger; To smile when tears are close; To resist disease and evil men and base instincts; To hate hate and to love love; To go on when it would seen good to die; To look up with unquenchable faith in something ever more about to be. That is what any man can do, and be great.

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

Realism is death to me. I cannot stand life as it is.

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

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

Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.