The happiness of others is never bearable for very long.

When you make a decision to write according to a set schedule and really stick to it, you find yourself writing very fast. At least I do.

If you don't have imagination you're lost. But it's a virtue that's becoming increasingly rare, especially in its higher form: spontaneity. Mad, happy spontaneity.

Money may not buy happiness, but I'd rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.

I've often found myself preferring second-rate people to supposedly superior people, simply and solely because of their uncontrollable tendency to bang themselves against the sides of life's vast lampshade like fireflies or moths.

Unhappiness has nothing to teach, and resignation is ugly.

pity is an agreeable sentiment, uplifting like military music.