Robert E. Howard
Robert E. Howard
Robert Ervin Howardwas an American author who wrote pulp fiction in a diverse range of genres. He is well known for his character Conan the Barbarian and is regarded as the father of the sword and sorcery subgenre...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth22 January 1906
CountryUnited States of America
absolutely among dim enter foreign people profession seems shores unreal
Never the less, it is no light thing to enter into a profession absolutely foreign and alien to the people among which one's lot is cast; a profession which seems as dim and faraway and unreal as the shores of Europe.
women emotional cobras
A woman in such an emotional tempest is as perilous as a blind cobra to any about her.
blind palate deny
I have known many gods. He who denies them is blind as he who trusts them too deeply.
darkness wit straws
Wits and swords are as straws against the wisdom of the Darkness...
dream real yesterday
I have gone into yesterday and tomorrow and both were as real as today -- which is like the dreams of ghosts!
writing texas order
One objection I have heard voiced to works of this kind—dealing with Texas—is the amount of gore spilled across the pages. It can not be otherwise. In order to write a realistic and true history of any part of the Southwest, one must narrate such things, even at the risk of monotony.
horse soul desire
My body seems a mere encumbrance to me; an imbecillic wagon, hitched to the horse of desire, which is the soul.
effort littles enough
I have accomplished little enough, but such as it is, it is the result of my own efforts.
writing men ideas
But the idea of a man making his living by writing seemed, in that hardy environment, so fantastic that even today I am sometimes myself assailed by a feeling of unreality.
environment spite
I became a writer in spite of my environments.
life dream ghost
Life is but a web spun of ghosts and dreams and illusions.
dark lions
It is better to go in the dark when the road must pass a lion and there is no other road.
kings ocean men
There comes, even to kings, the time of great weariness. Then the gold of the throne is brass, the silk of the palace becomes drab. The gems in the diadem and upon the fingers of the women sparkle drearily like the ice of white seas; the speech of men is as the empty rattle of a jester's bell and the feel comes of things unreal; even the sun is copper in the sky and the breath of the green ocean is no longer fresh.
book past flying
While we may open the books of the past, we may but grant flying glances of the future, through the mist that veils it.