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.
So it was in him, then ? an inherited fighting instinct, a driving intensity to kill.
Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet.
Like an arrow sprung from a bow Betty flashed past the Colonel and out on the green. Scarcely ten of the long hundred yards had been covered by her flying feet when a roar of angry shouts and yells warned Betty that the keen-eyed savages saw the bag of powder and now knew they had been deceived by a girl.
So that's troublin' you? I reckon it needn't. You see it was this way. I come round the house an' seen that fat party an' heard him talkin' loud. Then he seen me, an' very impolite goes straight for his gun. He oughtn't have tried to throw a gun on me - whatever his reason was. For that's meetin' me on my own grounds. I've seen runnin' molasses that was quicker'n him. Now I didn't know who he was, visitor or friend or relation of yours, though I seen he was a Mormon all over, an' I couldn't get serious about shootin'. So I winged him - put a bullet through his arm as he was pullin' at his gun. An' he droppped the gun there, an' a little blood. I told him he'd introduced himself sufficient, an' to please move out of my vicinity. An' went - Lassiter
Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.
Love of man for woman - love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself. - Zane Grey
The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.
You and I will never live to see the day that women recover their balance.
Love of man for woman - love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.
The narrator finds that as a maturing character grows in stature before her friends that she sees less stature while evaluating herself.
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
The whole scene impressed Venters as a wild, austere, and mighty manifestation of nature. And as it somehow reminded him of his prospect in life, so it suddenly resembled the woman near him, only in her there were greater beauty and peril, a mystery more unsolvable, and something nameless that numbed his heart and dimmed his eye.
Mister Hawe, you come along, not satisfied with ropin?.
There are always greater fish than you have caught, always the lure
My God! whispered the other, understanding fully at last.
There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.
No nerve, hey? Not half a man!... Buster Jack, why don't you finish game? Make up for your low-down tricks. At the last try to be worthy of your dad. In his day he was a real man.... Let him have the consolation that you faced Hell-Bent Wade an' died in your boots!
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 will see this game of life out to its bitter end
No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.
This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.