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A writer can live by his writing. If not so luxuriously as by other trades, then less luxuriously. The nature of the work he does all day will more a… - Robert Louis Stevenson
" "A writer can live by his writing. If not so luxuriously as by other trades, then less luxuriously. The nature of the work he does all day will more affect his happiness than the quality of his dinner at night. Whatever be your calling, and however much it brings you in the year, you could still, you know, get more by cheating. We all suffer ourselves to be too much concerned about a little poverty; but such considerations should not move us in the choice of that which is to be the business and justification of so great a portion of our lives; and like the missionary, the patriot, or the philosopher, we should all choose that poor and brave career in which we can do the most and best for mankind.
English
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About Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis (Balfour) Stevenson (13 November 1850 – 3 December 1894) was a Scottish novelist, poet, and travel writer, and a representative of Neo-romanticism.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Robert Luis Stivensoni
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Shih-ti-wen-sheng
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Stivenson
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Robert Loui Sitivensin
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Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson
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Robert Lui Stivenson
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RL Stivenson
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RL Stevenson
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RLS
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R. L. Stevenson
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Robert Lewis Balfour Stevenson
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Additional quotes by Robert Louis Stevenson
My Shadow
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow — Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
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