Children get smashed for hours on some strictly limited aspect of the Great Big Everything, the Universe, such as water or snow or mud or colors or rocks.

What you can become is the miracle you were born to be through the work that you do.

Do you realize that all great literature is all about what a bummer it is to be a human being? Isn't it such a relief to have somebody say that?

To the as-yet-unborn, to all innocent wisps of undifferentiated nothingness: Watch out for life.

You can't just eat good food. You've got to talk about it too. And you've got to talk about it to somebody who understands that kind of food.

It is harder to be unhappy when you are eating.

I've been living alone for so long, everything about me’s private. I’m surprised anyone’s able to understand a word I say.