About fifteen miles above New Orleans the river goes very slowly. It has broadened out there until it is almost a sea and the water is yellow with the mud of half a continent. Where the sun strikes it, it… — Frank Yerby Copy Share Image
About fifteen miles above New Orleans the river goes very slowly. It has broadened out there until it is almost a sea and the… — Frank Yerby Copy Share
It is my contention that a really great novel is made with a knife and not a pen. A novelist must have the intestinal… — Frank Yerby Copy Share
The middle years - the eighteen-seventies, 'eighties, 'nineties - were a time of moral bankruptcy when men stole millions by a stroke of the… — Frank Yerby Copy Share
Writing a novel is like building a wall brick by brick; only amateurs believe in inspiration. — Frank Yerby Copy Share
“Ill tell you the one that I think will: when a mans in love he wants to keep the one he loves- and cherish… — Frank Yerby Copy Share
