When I die there may be a paragraph or two in the newspapers. My name will linger in the British Museum Reading Room catalogue for a space at the head of a long list of books for which no one will ever ask. C. S. Forester bookbritishcatalogue share on social
I have heard of novels started in the middle, at the end, written in patches to be joined together later, but I have never felt the slightest desire to do this. C. S. Forester desireendfelt Change image and share on social
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. C. S. Forester editorformideal Change image and share on social
A whim, a passing mood, readily induces the novelist to move hearth and home elsewhere. He can always plead work as an excuse to get him out of the clutches of bothersome hosts. C. S. Forester bothersomeclutchexcuse Change image and share on social
The doctor who applied a stethoscope to my heart was not satisfied. I was told to get my papers with the clerk in the outer hall. I was medically rejected. C. S. Forester applyclerkdoctor Change image and share on social
The material came bubbling up inside like a geyser or an oil gusher. It streamed up of its own accord, down my arm and out of my fountain pen in a torrent of six thousand words a day. C. S. Forester accordarmbubble Change image and share on social
Perhaps that suspicion of fraud enhances the flavor. C. S. Forester enhanceflavorfraud Change image and share on social
