I spend most of my time in California. I feel I am fueled by rage and by the political climate there. I am angry most of the time when I am there, which might be unbearable for someone else, but for me it's fuel for my writing.

They are longing for a war with Iran. Iran is no more a harm to us than was Iraq or Afghanistan. They invented an enemy, they tell lies, lies, lies. The New York Times goes along with their lies, lies, lies. And they don't stop. When the public that's lied to 30 times a day it's apt to believe the lies, is not it?

I write in the morning at a table, longhand on yellow legal pads, just like Nixon, when I’m doing fiction.

Apparently, a democracy is a place where numerous elections are held at great cost without issues and with interchangeable candidates.

Love, like a sense of humor, is now claimed by everyone even though Love, like a sense of humor, is rather more rare than not, and to most of us poor muddlers unbearable at full strength.

It never occurred to any Enlightenment figure in the eighteenth century that law was not preferable to man.

Our form of democracy is bribery, on the highest scale.