I have written letters that are failures, but I have written few, I think, that are lies. Trying to reach a person means asking the same question over and over again: Is this the truth, or not? I begin this letter to you, then, in the western tradition. If I understand it, the western tradition is: Put your cards on the table.

I probably have less revision than those who have that wonderful rush of story to tell - you know, I can't wait to tell you what happened the other day. It comes tumbling out and maybe then they go back and refine. I kind of envy that way of working, but I just have never done it.

They say the smart dog obeys but the smarter dog knows when to disobey.

I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands.

I exaggerated even before I began to exaggerate, because it's true — nothing is ever quite as bad as it could be.

My job ... I do nothing, it pays nothing, but - you guessed it - it's better than nothing.

I think you would like Warren. He drinks Courvoisier in a Coke can, and has a laugh like you'd find in a cartoon bubble.