I could read the great books but the great books don't interest me.

People do too much. They say too much.

... to die on a kitchen floor at 7 o'clock in the morning while other people are frying eggs is not so rough unless it happens to you.

It is possible to be truly mad and to still exist upon scraps of life.

The pest, in a sense, is a very superior being to us: he knows where to find us and how--usually in the bath or in sexual intercourse or asleep.

That’s when I first learned that it wasn’t enough to just do your job, you had to have an interest in it, even a passion for it.

I had no Freedom. I had nothing.