No one will ever know anyone. We just have to deal with each other. You're not ever gonna know me.

I could stay living in this city if they just installed Blaupunkts in the cabs.

When the going gets tough, the tough go drinking.

I feel I'm moving toward as well as away from something, and anything is possible.

There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.

Writing a novel is not method acting and I find it easy to step out of it at cocktail hour.

We buy balloons, we let them go.