There was a writer in the '20s called Christopher Morley, who I remember a little bit of, who had some influence on me, but I couldn't tell you what it was.

I suspect that the word (art) was invented by second-rate intelligences to describe the incomprehensible activities of their betters.

Of all questions, why? is the least pertinent. It begs the question; it assumes the larger part of its own response; to wit, that a sensible response exists.

It is useless, after all, to complain against inexorable reality.

Well, I think everything I've ever read contributes to the background from which I write.

The void is a mouth crying to be filled, a blank mind aching for thought, a cavity desperate for shape. What is not implies what is.

Count me not your friend but the enemy of your enemies.