Quotes About Author

There are six more paragraphs. You read the whole thing out loud in class. No one likes it. They say your sense of plot is outrageous and incompetent. After class someone asks you if you are crazy.

Fear is sinful when it is rooted in selfishness rather than love.

The Pope was such a fine little fella, you know.

hope you will allow me to speak as plainly as I can." This was the difference, he thought, between the South and the North. A Southern woman would never ask permission.

I'm sure many have spoken of her." Lincoln reached for his pen, dipped it in the inkwell. "She is Elizabeth Edwards' sister." "For which she has my sympathies.

out the effects of the former. Do you think I don't understand economics? How many times do I have to

Britain really is an immense lunatic asylum. That is one of the things that distinguishes us among the nations. We have a very flexible conception of normality.

bottles and ate the glass? Maria, who thought that she was

He did not ask me to shoot him; perhaps at the very end he loved his vanishing life.

If you write a book set in the past about something that happened east of the Mississippi, it's a 'historical novel.' If you write about something that took place west of the Mississippi, it's a 'Western'- and somehow regarded as a lesser work. I write historical novels about the frontier.

Navarro lifted a deprecating shoulder and one eyebrow. His eyes had never left the big redhead's carefully moving hands. The Mexican wore buckskin breeches, hand-tooled boots, and one ivory

he'd had the foresight to know that a lot of the savages wear store-bought clothes.

When the raw, harsh liquor had cut the dust from his throat he looked up at a nearby

the door. Far down the street he could

Bayly, to say that he died down in the Guadaloupes. . .of

It is doubtful that any author could be as at home in the world re-created in his novels as Louis Dearborn L'Amour. Not only could

What few realize is that no writer is free to write exactly as he might wish. He is guided, to a great extent, by the tastes of readers and by the choices of editors. Of course, one can write whatever one wishes, but unless it conforms to the tastes of the public at the time, it will stay right on the author's shelf.

For an instant he glared at me from the mud, and then with a burst of fury he came off the ground.

Glancing at Keokotah I noted his features were unmarked by surprise. Had he seen or heard a gun before? Later, I learned he had not, but he was a Kickapoo, not to be astonished by such things.

Would you fight a woman, Mr. Radigan? I thought Western men more gallant." There was no yielding in Radigan. "When you opened the ball," he replied, "you called the tune.

Empty gun's no use to anybody, ma'am. If you need that, you'll need it fast.

Or was it simply that something deep inside me still longed for the sea, something inherited, something only half held, some unnamed yearning? What man truly understands his motives?

was." "I knew, Mr. Stacy." "Was it some old quarrel? Something that happened

about Strahan? Never seen him before ... or since. Put him on a horse and tie him, McQueen said. Well give him to Foster.