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

But I'm so slow on it because I find it terribly hard writing blind on computers. The computer speaks to me, but it's just so slow, I'm so terribly slow using it.

I don't read other science fiction. I don't read any at all.

While we are alive we should sit among colored lights and taste good wines, and discuss our adventures in far places; when we are dead, the opportunity is past.

I worked for half a cent a word. I'm not a fast writer to begin with, so for the first few years I had do other things.

Somebody else's ignorance is bliss.

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