It may be true that my desk here is really 'nothing but' a transient eddy of electrons in the flux of universal process. Nevertheless, I find that it continues to support my feet, my revolver, and my cigars all day long. What happens when my back is turned I don't know. Or much care. That's no concern of mine.

There are two kinds of people I cannot abide: bigots and any well-organized ethnic group.

I am happy to be a regional writer. My region is the American West, old Mexico, West Virginia, New York, Europe, Australia, the human heart, and the male groin.

A crude meal, no doubt, but the best of all sauces is hunger.

All governments need enemies. How else to justify their existence?

Mexico: where life is cheap, death is rich, and the buzzards are never unhappy.

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.