Herman Wouk
Herman Wouk
Herman Woukis an American author, whose best-selling 1951 novel The Caine Mutiny won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. His other works include the highly acclaimed The Winds of War and War and Remembrance, historical novels about World War II, and non-fiction such as This Is My God, a popular explanation of Judaism from a Modern Orthodox perspective, written for Jewish and non-Jewish audiences. His books have been translated into 27 languages. The Washington Post called Wouk, who cherishes his privacy,...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth27 May 1915
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
Herman Wouk quotes about
This is an excellent martini—sort of tastes like it isn't there at all, just a cold cloud.
I regard the writing of humor as a supreme artistic challenge.
Some hours weigh against a whole lifetime.
... talk, not sex, constitutes most of the intercourse between a man and his wife.
A leader can't dash ahead around the bend out of sight.
The American people are not cowardly. But, living in prosperous isolation, they have been the spoiled children of modern history.
About the nicest thing God ever invented was alcohol. He's proud of it, too. The Bible's full of kind remarks about booze.
The President has a quick and able mind, though not everybody gives him that, not by a long shot.
Write a page a day. It will add up.
Illusion is an anodyne, bred by the gap between wish and reality.
The Talmud is to this day the circulating heart's blood of the Jewish religion. Whatever laws, customs or ceremonies we observe-whether we are orthodox, conservative, reform or merely spasmodic sentimentalists-we follow the Talmud. It is our common Law.
The Navy is a master plan designed by geniuses for execution by idiots. If you are not an idiot, but find yourself in the Navy, you can only operate well by pretending to be one. All the shortcuts and economies and common-sense changes that your native intelligence suggests to you are mistakes. Learn to quash them. Constantly ask yourself, "How would I do this if I were a fool?" Throttle down your mind to a crawl. Then you will never go wrong.
A writer is nothing but a gray dirt-covered root. The works he sends up into the sunlight are his fruits, and only those are worthy of attention.
I think it's a bit like coming to the end of a book. The plot's in its thickest, all the characters are in a mess, but you can see that there aren't fifty pages left, and you know that the finish can't be far off.