I am for the small man who has not forgotten, for the man who loves his beer and his women and his sunlight

I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn't improve art. It only hindered it. A man's soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak and drinking a pint of whiskey than he could ever write after eating a nickel candy bar. The myth of the starving artist was a hoax.

for a man of 55 who didn't get laid until he was 23 and not very often until he was 50 I think that I should stay listed via Pacific Telephone until I get as much as the average man has had

And yet women-good women--frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep.

Belane, are you nuts?" Who knows? Insanity is comparative. Who sets the norm?

If you can only remain pure in your stupidity, someday you may get a phone call from hell.

If I'm an ass, I should say so. If I don't, somebody else will. If I say it first, that disarms them.