In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable.

You can't go home again because home has ceased to exist except in the mothballs of memory.

It is one of the triumphs of the human that he can know a thing and still not believe it.

People don't want advice...only corroboration.

They's times when how you feel got to be kep' to yourself.

You're going to pass something down no matter what you do or if you do nothing. Even if you let yourself go fallow, the weeds will grow and the brambles. Something will grow.

New York is a wonderful city... It is going to be the capital of the world.