I don't tell anyone how to write and no one tells me.

I'll hold on to the world tight some day. I've got one finger on it now; that's a beginning.

And they were all, when their souls grew warm, poets.

I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down?

I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.

I don't need an alarm clock. My ideas wake me.

Digression is the soul of wit. Take the philosophic asides away from Dante, Milton or Hamlet's father's ghost and what stays is dry bones.