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A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely affor
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C. S. Forester:
A whim, a passing mood, readily induces the novelist to move hearth and home elsewhere. He can alwaC. S. Forester:
Everything was in stark and dreadful contrast with the trivial crises and counterfeit emotions of HC. S. Forester:
I formed a resolution to never write a word I did not want to write; to think only of my own tastesC. S. Forester:
I have heard of novels started in the middle, at the end, written in patches to be joined togetherC. S. Forester:
Novel writing is far and away the most exhausting work I know.C. S. Forester:
Novel writing wrecks homes.C. S. Forester:
Perhaps that suspicion of fraud enhances the flavor.C. S. Forester:
The doctor who applied a stethoscope to my heart was not satisfied. I was told to get my papers witC. S. Forester:
The material came bubbling up inside like a geyser or an oil gusher. It streamed up of its own accoC. S. Forester:
The work is with me when I wake up in the morning; it is with me while I eat my breakfast in bed an