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I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.

Zane Grey

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Zane Grey
Age: 67 †
Born: 1872
Born: January 31
Died: 1939
Died: October 23
Author
Baseball Player
Dentist
Film Producer
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Zanesville
Ohio
Hands
Ache
Aware
Weakness
Tired
Arms
Cold
Feet
Aches
Head
Boils

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Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
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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.
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Love of man for woman--love of woman for man. That's the nature, the meaning, the best of life itself.
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Realism is death to me. I cannot stand life as it is.
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Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
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I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.
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I did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.
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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.
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Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet.
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Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
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I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.
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The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.
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