[On love:] I have no respect for anyone who says they've given up, or that they're not looking or that they're tired. That is to abrogate one's responsibility as a human being.

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

You must never be afraid to go there.

There in the midst of the Amazon Jungle, Simon Haskell has cobbled up for himself a replica of an Art Deco salon.

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

Because the chief commodity a writer has to sell is his courage. And if he has none, he is more than a coward. He is a sellout and a fink and a heretic, because writing is a holy chore.

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