There are days when I'll wake up and think, oh, I've really been something. You know, it won't be the same without me. And then there are days when I wake up and I say, 'Don't kid yourself. Your contribution was minimal. You changed very little. Everything you hated prospered'.

I no longer gave a sick dog's drop for the wisdom, the reliability and the authority of the public's literary mind, those creeps and old ladies of vested reviewing.

Harsh words live in the dungeon of the heart

Movies are more likely than literature to reach deep feelings in people.

The horror of the Twentieth Century was the size of each new event, and the paucity of its reverberation.

Psychoanalysis and Zen, in my private psychic geometry, are equal to nicotine. They are anti-existential. Nicotine quarantines one out of existence.

Prevarication, like honesty, is reflexive, and soon becomes a sturdy habit, as reliable as truth.