Winnetou I - Winnetou Trilogy Volume One

by Karl May

I’m accustomed to being laughed at by rascals because sensible people don’t do that.

only a genuine Westerner could write about it properly and truthfully; but especially a man like that will never get to do it.”

And what sort of miserable life would you lead as a book writer? Instead of drinking the magnificent spring water of the West, you’d have to do with black ink, or chew on a goose feather instead of a bear paw or ham. There would be a cracked plaster ceiling above you, but no blue sky and instead of the soft, green grass you’d have an old wooden bed beneath you that causes lumbago. Here you have a horse, and there you’d have a tattered old armchair to sit on. Here you can enjoy God’s noble gift first hand with every rain and thunderstorm, but there you’d open a red or green umbrella over you as soon as the first drops fall. Here you’re a fresh, free, cheerful man with a rifle in his fist, back there you’d sit on a desk and waste your physical strength on a quill or a pencil, which… well, I’ll stop now or I’ll get worked up even more.

“And I refuse to take oaths. My word is worth as much as an oath. Besides, I wouldn’t let a threat, not even Liddy, force a promise out of me.

You won’t forget anythin’ in your old age b’cause you learnt nothin’ as a youngster.”