... I vowed that I would always respect the right of an individual to kill himself. Whether suicide was a moral or immoral act I no longer felt sure, but of the dignity of its intransigence I was convinced.

My wife and daughter have accused me of being too silent at breakfast but I don't want to talk when I don't have much to say.

The knowledge that my discriminations are skewed and not always universally desirable doesn't stop me in the least from making them.

The trick is to realize that one is not important, except insofar as one’s example can serve to elucidate a more widespread human trait and make readers feel a little less lonely and freakish.

Have fun writing, because it enhances both the writer's and reader's experience.

Doubt is my boon companion, the faithful St. Bernard ever at my side. Whether writing essays or just going about daily life, I am constantly second-guessing myself. My mind is filled with 'yes, buts,' 'so whats?' and other skeptical rejoinders. I am forever monitoring myself for traces of folly, insensitivity, arrogance, false humility, cruelty, stupidity, immaturity and, guess what, I keep finding examples. Age has not made me wiser, except maybe in retrospect.

For most of my life, I have wanted broad impact but now, at 72, I'm not so sure that's always my first priority.