As a friend of mine, herself a writer, says, 'People who spend the most meaningful hours of their lives in the exclusive company of imaginary people are apt to be a little strange'

Why on earth should I care whether people read me with their eyes or their ears?

Back then, before it became clear that democracy was best served by a drunken electorate, the bars in New York City were required to close on Election Day.

As my late mother famously observed, the one thing to be said for growing old is that every year there are a few more things I don’t have to give a rat’s ass about.

Booze and tobacco and lots of sex. It keeps a lad young.

To say I drank my way into marriage isn't much of an exaggeration, and it's none at all to say I drank my way out of it.

Ideas come to people who are receptive to them.