Zitat des Tages von Zane Grey:
I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
Love of man for woman - love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.
I did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.
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.
There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
I need this wild life, this freedom.
Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
I love my work but do not know how I write it.
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.
Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.
I hate birthdays.
I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.
Today I began the novel that I determined to be great.
It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.
I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.
I arise full of eagerness and energy, knowing well what achievement lies ahead of me.
This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.
I will see this game of life out to its bitter end.
The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.
Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.
I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.