The whole framework of the presidency is getting out of hand. It's come to the point where you almost can't run unless you can cause people to salivate and whip each other with big sticks. You almost have to be a rock star to get the kind of fever you need to survive in American politics.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body.

The car suddenly veered off the road and we came to a sliding halt in the gravel. I was hurled against the dashboard. My attorney was slumped over the wheel. “What’s wrong?” I yelled. “We can’t stop here. This is bat country!

Old elephants limp off to the hills to die; old Americans go out to the highway and drive themselves to death with huge cars.

Not a wasted word. This has been a main point to my literary thinking all my life.

He could shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time.

Whatever he might have denied me was unimportant; it was the fact that he could deny me anything at all, even what I didn't want