-
Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
-
Love of man for woman - love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.
-
I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.
-
I need this wild life, this freedom.
-
I can write best in the silence and solitude of the night, when everyone has retired.
-
I arise full of eagerness and energy, knowing well what achievement lies ahead of me.
-
I wrote for nearly six hours. When I stopped, the dark mood, as if by magic, had folded its cloak and gone away.
-
I hate birthdays.
-
Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
-
Don't look back!
-
It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.
-
The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.
-
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.
-
No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.
-
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
-
There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.
-
I love my work but do not know how I write it.
-
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 did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.
-
Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.
-
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
-
I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.
-
I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.
-
I will see this game of life out to its bitter end.