I've never yet read a review of one of my own books that I couldn't have written much better myself.

Style: There is something in too much verbal felicity (as in Joyce or Nabokov or Borges) that can betray the writer into technique for the sake of technique.

Reincarnation? There is such a thing. What could be more Mozartian than the Nutcracker Suite?

For women, the sexual act is a means to a higher end. For a man, it is an end in itself.

Why the critics, like a flock of ducks, always move in perfect unison: Their authority with the public depends upon an appearance of unanimous agreement. One dissenting voice would shatter the whole fragile structure.

Mental degeneracy may be caused by lead poisoning. Or by a poor dip in the gene pool.

The real work of men was hunting meat. The invention of agriculture was a giant step in the wrong direction, leading to serfdom, cities, and empire. From a race of hunters, artists, warriors, and tamers of horses, we degraded ourselves to what we are now: clerks, functionaries, laborers, entertainers, processors of information.