“I could never resist the call of the trail.”

We had avoided discovery by the Sioux scouts, and we were confident of giving them a complete surprise.

Wild Bill was anything but a quarrelsome man yet I have personal knowledge of at least half a dozen men whom he had at various times killed.

Some days I would go without any fire at all, and eat raw frozen meat and melt snow in my mouth for water.

Nothing of course was ever done to Bill for the killing of Tutt.

The Indians kept increasing in numbers until it was estimated that we were fighting from 800 to 1,000 of them.

It was my effort, in depicting the West, to depict it as it was.

The first trip of the Pony Express was made in ten days – an average of two hundred miles a day. But we soon began stretching our riders and making better time.

We got more provisions for our whiskey than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have bought; so after all it proved a very profitable investment.

With the help of a friend I got father into a wagon, when the crowd had gone. I held his head in my lap during the ride home. I believed he was mortally wounded. He had been stabbed down through the kidneys, leaving an ugly wound.

I felt only as a man can feel who is roaming over the prairies of the far West, well armed, and mounted on a fleet and gallant steed.

The cholera had broken out at the post, and five or six men were dying daily.

I began to think that my time had come, as the saying is.

It was because of my great interest in the West, and my belief that its development would be assisted by the interest I could awaken in others, that I decided to bring the West to the East through the medium of the Wild West Show.

Springfield has always had a place in my heart.

I had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track.

My first plan of escape having failed, I now determined upon another.

Where there is power, there is resistance.

There’s another part of me which resists you, which loves me.

Where there is oppression, there will be resistance.

Whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists.

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout with some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

Never let people who choose the path of least resistance steer you away from your chosen path of most resistance.

Where there is oppression, there will be resistance.

Surrender your worries. Give up your doubt. Let yourself be free from resistance.