It wouldn't kill you to stay the night anyway.
Every writer at the New Yorker is smarter than me.
Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.
You just don't wake up one day and decide that you need to write songs.
To preach of peace and brotherhood, oh what might be the cost? A man he did it long ago, and they hung him on a cross.
I change during the course of a day. I wake and I'm one person, and when I go to sleep I know for certain I'm somebody else.