I'm nothing. Nothing at all without writing. Without truth, my truth, the only truth I know, it's all a gambol in the pasture without rhythm or sense.

Everyone is entitled to an *informed* opinion.

For the first time we have a weapon that nobody has used for thirty years. This gives me great hope for the human race.

I have but nothing to say to young girls. They're fine to look at, in the way I would look at a case filled with Shang dynasty glazes, but expecting to carry on a conversation with the average teen-aged young lady is akin to reading Voltaire to a cage filled with chimpanzees. I'm certain they would feel the same alienation for me. I can live with that knowledge.

Thank your readers and the critics who praise you, and then ignore them. Write for the most intelligent, wittiest, wisest audience in the universe: Write to please yourself.

Posing the question: does the god of love use underarm deodorant, vaginal spray and fluoride toothpaste?

They change scapegoats at the networks more regularly than some people change socks.