No good at life, but very funny sometimes with the commentary.

I learned how to make jokes because I wanted to give people as much fun as they did, and I guess I did, too.

All of the true things I am about to tell you are shameless lies.

Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?

Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery.

How’s the patient?” asked Derby. “Dead to the world.” “But not actually dead.” “No.” “How nice - to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.

There was a still life on Billy's bedside table-two pills, an ashtray with three lipstick-stained cigarettes in it, one cigarette still burning, and a glass of water. The water was dead. So it goes. Air was trying to get out of the dead water. Bubbles were clinging to the walls of the glass, too weak to climb out.