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.
Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.
This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
I love my work but do not know how I write it.