Zane Grey Quotes

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

If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.

Love of man for woman--love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.

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.

There are always greater fish than you have caught, always the lure of greater task and achievement, always the inspiration to seek, to endure, to find.

Fishing is a condition of mind wherein you cannot possibly have a bad time.

Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.

There was never an angler who lived but that there was a fish capable of taking the conceit out of him.

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

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

The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.

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

I need this wild life, this freedom.

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

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

Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.

Fishermen, no matter what supreme good fortune befalls them, cannot ever be absolutely satisfied. It is a fundamental weakness of intellect.

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

I hope I have found myself, my work, my happiness - under the light of the western skies.

A good rule of angling philosophy is not to interfere with any fishermans ways of being happy, unless you want to be hated.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

What is writing but an expression of my own life?

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

Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet.

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

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

Jealously was an unjust and stifling thing.

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

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.

I did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.

When I envied a man's spurs then they were indeed worth coveting.

Jealousy is an unjust and stifling thing.

Pride would never be her ally.

The narrator finds that as a maturing character grows in stature before her friends that she sees less stature while evaluating herself.