I just wrote what I felt like writing since they seemed to sell.

When you demand the nature of my motives, you reveal the style of your thinking to be callow, captious, superficial, craven, uncertain and impudent.

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 haven't sold to the movies. In other words, I haven't gotten any enormous checks yet.

I suffer from a spiritual malaise which manifests itself in outbursts of vicious rage.

Human interactions, stimulated as they are by disequilibrium, never achieve balance. In even the most favorable transaction, one party whether he realizes it or not must always come out the worse.

I do not care to listen; obloquy injures my self-esteem and I am skeptical of praise.