I think it can be tremendously refreshing if a creator of literature has something on his mind other than the history of literature so far. Literature should not disappear up its own asshole, so to speak.

I really wonder what gives us the right to wreck this poor planet of ours.

I have had all I can stand of not taking myself seriously.

Unannounced changes in life's itinerary are like dancing lessons from God.

Poverty is a relatively mild disease for even a very flimsy American soul, but uselessness will kill strong and weak souls alike, and kill every time.

Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

Dear future generations: Please accept our apologies. We were rolling drunk on petroleum.