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It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.
Sherwood Anderson
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Sherwood Anderson
Age: 64 †
Born: 1876
Born: September 13
Died: 1941
Died: March 8
Novelist
Writer
Buck Fever
Cold
Tree
Bonfire
Great
Distant
Like
Gray
Hills
Trees
Sun
Fields
More quotes by Sherwood Anderson
It is no use. I find it impossible to work with security staring me in the face.
Sherwood Anderson
The writing of words can lead to all sorts of absurdities.
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I am a little thing, a tiny little thing on the vast prairies. I know nothing. My mouth is dirty. I cannot tell what I want. My feet are sunk in the black swampy land, but I am a lover. I love life. In the end love shall save me.
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Everyone in the world is Christ and they are all crucified.
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I think that those of us who are what are called intellectuals make a terrible mistake in overvaluing the yen we have for the arts, books, etc. There is a sweet, fine quality in life that has nothing to do with this, and more and more I find myself valuing myself with those people.
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Would it not be better to have it understood that realism, in so far as the word means reality to life, is always bad art -- although it may possibly be very good journalism?
Sherwood Anderson
If you are to become a writer you'll have to stop fooling with words.
Sherwood Anderson
I go about looking at horses and cattle. They eat grass, make love, work when they have to, bear their young. I am sick with envy of them.
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Only the few know the sweetness of the twisted apples.
Sherwood Anderson
Realism, in so far as the word means reality to life, is always bad art.
Sherwood Anderson
Work accomplished means little. It is in the past. What we all want is the glorious and living present.
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The whole object of education is...to develop the mind. The mind should be a thing that works.
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Wait and wait. Most people's lives are spent waiting.
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Father was made for romance. For him there was no such thing as a fact.
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My father, a ruined dandy from the South, had been reduced to keeping a small harness-repair shop and, when that failed, he became ostensibly a house-and-barn painter. However, he did not call himself a house-painter. The idea was not flashy enough for him. He called himself a sign-writer.
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You must not become a mere peddler of words. The thing to learn is to know what people are thinking about, not what they say.
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The father spent his time talking and thinking of religion. He proclaimed himself an agnostic and was so absorbed in destroying the ideas of God that had crept into the minds of his neighbors that he never saw God manifesting himself in the little child that, half forgotten, lived here and there on the bounty of her dead mother's relatives.
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I wanted to run away from everything but I wanted to run towards something too.
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The machines men are so intent on making have carried them very far from the old sweet things.
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The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself.
Sherwood Anderson