I love being a writer. What I can't stand is the paperwork.

Anyone informed that the universe is expanding and contracting in pulsations of eighty billion years has a right to ask. What's in it for me?

Rather than waste precious time arguing, I went up and started serving my "sentence" without delay. It was usually about an hour for epigrams; somewhat longer for a paradox.

... it is a fact universally acknowledged that a husband is the most ridiculous thing on earth, except for a bachelor.

We are nothing but a string of gut on a stick of bone riding this piece of astral soot for one piteous splinter of eternity.

We turned on one another deep, drowned gazes, and exchanged a kiss that reduced my bones to rubber and my brain to gruel.

Sex in marriage is like medicine. Three times a day for the first week. Then once a day for another week. Then once every three or four days till the condition clears up.