And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over.

What should I do?" "Throw up in your typewriter every morning." "Yeah." "Clean up every noon.

From the outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse, and that was only that he wished to go on living.

If you write a hundred short stories and they're all bad, that doesn't mean you've failed. You fail only if you stop writing.

Death doesn't exist. It never did, it never will. But we've drawn so many pictures of it, so many years, trying to pin it down, comprehend it, we've got to thinking of it as an entity, strangely alive and greedy. All it is, however, is a stopped watch, a loss, an end, a darkness. Nothing.

Sometimes you have intuitive insight about how you think things are going to be, and you write that. Other times you fantasize completely, which has nothing to do with predicting the future.

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.