Eclecticism is the word. Like a jazz musician who creates his own style out of the styles around him, I play by ear.

And I knew that it was better to live out one's absurdity than to die for that of others.

Whence all this passion toward conformity anyway? – diversity is the word. Let man keep his many parts and you'll have no tyrant states . Why, if they follow this conformity business they'll end up by forcing me, an invisible man, to become white, which is not a color but the lack of one. Must I strive toward colorlessness? But seriously, and without snobbery, think of what the world would lose if that should happen. America is woven of many strands. I would recognize them and let it so remain.

Good fiction is made of that which is real, and reality is difficult to come by.

It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself.

That ... is how the world moves: Not like an arrow, but a boomerang.

Please, a definition: A hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action.