I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideas.

I had no Freedom. I had nothing.

When I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer and know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself, to do it right, with power, and force, and delight, and gamble.

It was like a church in there as only the truly lost sit in bars on Tuesday mornings at 8:00 a.m.

Do some living and get yourself a typewriter.

Intellectuals say simple things in difficult ways. Artists say difficult things in simple ways.

To do a dull thing with style-now that's what I call art.