Basically, that's why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.

That's your response to everything: drink?" "No, that's my response to nothing.

Success is always dangerous. It can make an asshole out of anybody.

When a writer is swayed with his fame and his fortune, you can float him down the river with the turds.

we know God is dead, they've told us, but listening to you I wasn't sure.

You know the typical crowd, Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there? Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have.

I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.