I could write stories just as rotten.
I do not think that I am ever overconfident. I am merely wholly confident, and I maintain that there is all the difference in the world there.
I had this story from one who had no business to tell it to me, or to any other. I may credit the seductive influence of an old vintage upon the narrator for the beginning of it, and my own skeptical incredulity during the days that followed for the balance of the strange tale.
Even brave men, and D’Arnot was a brave man, are sometimes frightened by solitude.
Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man desires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of his desire be Vice or Virtue?
It never seems to occur to some people, that, like beauty, a sense of humor may sometimes be fatal.
For me, temperance is essential to good work.
Subconscious minds are no less fallible than the objective mind.
Even theories must have foundations.
Could it be that there were other things more desirable than cold logic and undefiled brain power?
For myself, I always assume that a lion is ferocious, and so I am never caught off my guard.
Traveling through space is stupifyingly monotonous.
In that little party there was not one who would desert another; yet we were of different countries, different colours, different races, different religions – and one of us was of a different world.
I knew nothing about the technique of story writing, and now, after eighteen years of writing, I still know nothing about the technique, although with the publication of my new novel, “Tarzan and the Lost Empire”, there are 31 books on my list.
You are here for but an instant, and you mustn’t take yourself too seriously.
This was life! Ah, how he loved it! Civilization held nothing like this in its narrow and circumscribed sphere, hemmed in by restrictions and conventionalities. Even clothes were a hindrance and a nuisance. At last he was free. He had not realized what a prisoner he had been.
I have ever been prone to seek adventure and to investigate and experiment where wiser men would have left well enough alone.
Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger.
They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality.
I presume that it is the better part of wisdom that we bow to our fate with as good grace as possible.
Golf is a mental disorder.