November 15, 2016

Zane Grey Quotes

“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.”

“At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on under the great trees seemed to blend with the colors and, disappearing, to have become a part of the wild woodland.”

“At the end of a dry, uphill ride over barren country Jean Isbel unpacked to camp at the edge of the cedars where a little rocky canon, green with willow and cottonwood, promised water and grass.”

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

“For some reason the desert scene before Lucy Bostil awoke varying emotions — a sweet gratitude for the fullness of her life there at the Ford, yet a haunting remorse that she could not be wholly content — a vague loneliness of soul — a thrill and a fear for the strangely calling future, glorious, unknown.”

“I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.”

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

“I arise full of eagerness and energy, knowing well what achievement lies ahead of me.”

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

“I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.”

“I did not have one bad spell during writing – an unprecedented record.”

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

“I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.”

“I need this wild life, this freedom.”

“I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.”

“I will see this game of life out to its bitter end.”

“I wrote for nearly six hours. When I stopped, the dark mood, as if by magic, had folded its cloak and gone away.”

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

“It was the elision of the weaker element–the survival of the fittest; and some, indeed very many, mothers must lose their sons that way.”

“Late in June the vast northwestern desert of wheat began to take on a tinge of gold, lending an austere beauty to that endless, rolling, smooth world of treeless hills, where miles of fallow ground and miles of waving grain sloped up to the far-separated homes of the heroic men who had conquered over sage and sand.”

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

“Love of man for woman – love of woman for man. That’s the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.”

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

“No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.”

“So it was in him, then — an inherited fighting instinct, a driving intensity to kill.”

“The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.”

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

“There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.”

“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.”

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

“Today I began the novel that I determined to be great.”

“We’ll use a signal I have tried and found far-reaching and easy to yell. Waa-hoo!”

“What is writing but an expression of my own life?”

“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.”

“Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.”

“Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.”