I'll pour you the first one and after that, if you don't have one, it's your own f****** fault. You know where it is.

A bad review may spoil your breakfast, but you shouldn't allow it to spoil your lunch.

Feeling a tremendous rakehell, and not liking myself much for it, and feeling rather a good chap for not liking myself much for it, and not liking myself at all for feeling rather a good chap.

Doing what you wanted to do was the only training, and the only preliminary, needed for doing more of what you wanted to do.

Hangover cure: Rigorous sex, hydration, hot bath, then "go up for half an hour in an open aeroplane. (needless to say, with a non-hungover person at the controls)."

When that ineffable compound of depression, sadness (these two are not the same), anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear for the future begins to steal over you, start telling yourself that what you have is a hangover. You are not sickening for anything, you have not suffered a minor brain lesion, you are not all that bad at your job, your family and friends are not leagued in a conspiracy of barely maintained silence about what a s**t you are, you have not come at last to see life as it really is and there is no use crying over spilt milk.

Being American is, I think, a very difficult thing in art, because all the elements are European.