The Lucky Man Is He Who Knows

Clairvoyant, Hornblower Could Foresee That In A Year's Time, The World Would Hardy Remember The Incident. In Twenty Years, It Would Be Entirely Forgotten. Yet Those Headless Corpses Up There In Muzillac; Those Shattered Redcoats; Those Frenchmen Caught In The Four-pounder's Blast Of Canister -- They Were As Dead As If It Had Been A Day In Which History Had Been Changed.

I Formed A Resolution To Never Write A Word I Did Not Want To Write; To Think Only Of My Own Tastes And Ideals, Without A Thought Of Those Of Editors Or Publishers.

A Man Who Writes For A Living Does Not Have To Go Anywhere In Particular, And He Could Rarely Afford To If He Wanted.

Novel Writing Wrecks Homes.

There Is No Other Way Of Writing A Novel Than To Begin At The Beginning At To Continue To The End.