Zane Grey
Zane Grey was born on January 31, 1872, in Zanesville, a town in the United States that shares its name with the man who would go on to become one of the country's most widely read writers of Western adventure fiction. A citizen of the United States, Grey spent his life working in English across a striking range of occupations, and the American West became the cultural territory most closely tied to his name.
Grey's working life covered a remarkable spread of fields. He trained at the University of Pennsylvania School of Dental Medicine and worked as a dentist, and he also spent time as a baseball player before turning more fully toward writing. As a writer, he worked as a novelist, poet, and screenwriter, and he extended his involvement in storytelling by working as a film actor, film director, and film producer as well. His adventure novels, particularly those set in the landscapes of the American West, drew a broad readership throughout his career.
The most noted work associated with Grey is Riders of the Purple Sage, a novel that became firmly linked to his reputation as a writer of Western fiction. His output as a novelist sat alongside his work in poetry and film, and his screenwriting credits added yet another dimension to a career that moved across several creative and commercial forms. The Western genre remained the context in which his name carried the most weight, and Riders of the Purple Sage held a central place within that body of work.
Grey died on October 23, 1939, in Altadena, California. The Library of Congress records him under the authorized form "Grey, Zane, 1872–1939," a pair of dates that marks the boundaries of a career that ran from dentistry and baseball through fiction, poetry, screenwriting, and film production, with Riders of the Purple Sage standing as the title most durably connected to his name.
Quotes by Zane Grey
Zane Grey's insights on:

Shut off your wind, Jack! And you, too, Blaze! I didn’t want you fellows to come here. But as you would come, you’ve got to shut up. This is my business.

Adam Larey gazed with hard and wondering eyes down the silent current of the red river upon which he meant to drift away into the desert.

Unhappiness is only a change. Happiness itself is only change. So what does it matter? The great thing is to see life – to understand – to feel – to work – to fight – to endure.

An awful sense of her deadness, of her soul-blighting selfishness, began to dawn upon her as something monstrous out of dim, gray obscurity.

With that they, and many others, left the hall and joined the moving crowd in the street. The night was delightfully cool. Stars shone white in a velvet sky. The dry wind from mountain and desert blew in their faces. Pan.




