People don't die from the old diseases any more. They die from new ones, but that's Progress, isn't it? Isn't it?

When you're all alone out there, on the end of the typewriter, with each new story a new appraisal by the world of whether you can still get it up or not, arrogance and self-esteem and deep breathing are all you have. It often looks like egomania. I assure you it's the bold coverup of the absolutely terrified.

Any writer who pretends to a disaffection for recognition, I think they're being duplicitous.

With the Internet, the greatest disseminator of bad data and bad information the universe has ever known, it's become impossible to trust any news from any source at all, because it's filtered through this crazy yenta gossip line. It's impossible to know anything.

Star Wars is adolescent nonsense; Close Encounters is obscurist drivel; ‘Star Trek’ can turn your brains into puree of bat guano; and the greatest science fiction series of all time is Doctor Who! And I'll take you all on, one-by-one or all in a bunch to back it up!

Repent, Harlequin," said the Ticktock Man. "Get stuffed," the Harlequin replied.

I am not one of these people who instantly takes umbrage when he's corrected or - I love being corrected.