There is a terrible sameness to the euphoria of alcohol and the euphoria of metaphor.

Admite the world. Relish the love of a gentle woman. Trust in the lord.

The world that was not mine yesterday now lies spread out at my feet, a splendor. I seem, in the middle of the night, to have returned to the world of apples, the orchards of Heaven. Perhaps I should take my problems to a shrink, or perhaps I should enjoy the apples that I have, streaked with color like the evening sky.

I was born into no true class and it was my decision early in life to insinuate myself into the middle class like a spy so that I would have an advantageous position of attack, but I seem now and then to have forgotten my mission, and to have taken my disguises too seriously.

Wisdom we know is the knowledge of good and evil - not the strength to choose between the two.

I don't like to see all my energies, all of my youth, wasted in fur coats and radios and slipcovers.

Without a reader, I cannot write. It's like a kiss: they cannot be done alone.