Never mistake talking about writing for actual writing.

It was my dream that screwed up, the stupid hearthside idea that it would be wonderful to follow one great red line across America instead of trying various roads and routes.

Man, wow, there's so many things to do, so many things to write! How to even begin to get it all down and without modified restraints and all hung-up on like literary inhibitions and grammatical fears.

don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work.

my karma was to be born in America where nobody has any fun or believes in anything, especially freedom.

all day long wearing a hat that wasn't on my head

Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.