Sex is like money; only too much is enough.

Hope bases vast premises on foolish accidents, and reads a word where in fact only a scribble exists.

Having children is something we think we ought to do because our parents did it, but when it is over the children are just other members of the human race, rather disappointingly.

Being able to write becomes a kind of shield, a way of hiding, a way of too instantly transforming pain into honey.

America is a vast conspiracy to make you happy.

What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit.

To say that war is madness is like saying that sex is madness: true enough, from the standpoint of a stateless eunuch, but merely a provocative epigram for those who must make their arrangements in the world as given.