Me and Norman Mailer have talked about how hard it is in America to get better. Especially at writing.

The answer is never the answer. What's really interesting is the mystery.

They did type me as a horror writer, but I have been able to do all sorts of things within that framework.

When you love someone it is forever, or it was never really love at all.

All that five thousand kids lived in those five thousand houses, owned by guys that got off the train. The houses looked so much alike that, time and time again, the kids went home by mistake to different houses and different families. Nobody ever noticed.

It's time to move on to the next step in the psychedelic revolution. We've reached a certain point, but we're not moving any more.

Luckily, I remembered something Malcolm Cowley had taught us at Stanford - perhaps the most important lesson a writing class (not a writer, understand, but a class) can ever learn. 'Be gentle with one another's efforts,' he often admonished us. 'Be kind and considerate with your criticism. Always remember that it's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book.'