I don't mind you thinking I'm stupid, but don't talk to me like I'm stupid.

People on the outside think there's something magical about writing, that you go up in the attic at midnight and cast the bones and come down in the morning with a story, but it isn't like that. You sit in back of the typewriter and you work, and that's all there is to it.

My philosophy of life is that the meek shall inherit nothing but debasement, frustration, and ignoble deaths.

I usually say I write for the smartest, cleverest, wittiest audience I know, and that's me.

I was the green monkey, the pariah. And I had no friends. Not just a few friends, or one good friend, or grudging acceptance by other misfits and outcasts. I was alone. All stinking alone, without even an imaginary playmate.

It is a love/hate relationship I have with the human race. I am an elitist, and I feel that my responsibility is to drag the human race along with me, that I will never pander to, or speak down to, or play the safe game.

Now begin in the middle, and later learn the beginning; the end will take care of itself.