Being neurotic seemed to be a kind of wild card, an all-purpose explanation.

My grandmother refused to concede that any member of the family died of natural causes. An uncle's cancer in middle age occurred because all the suitcases fell off the luggage rack onto him when he was in his teens, and so forth. Death was an acquired characteristic.

Intelligent people, caught at anything, denied it. Faced with evidence of having denied it falsely, people said they had not done it and had not lied about it, and didn't remember it, but if they had done it, or lied about it, they would have done it and misspoken themselves about it in an interest so much higher as to alter the nature of doing and lying altogether.

Writing about writing is a bit like talking about a conversation you are having; it tends to obscure desperation about where the next word is coming from.

It is always self-defeating to pretend to the style of a generation younger than your own; it simply erases your own experience in history.

Bored people, unless they sleep a lot, are cruel.

Most movies are not very good. Most people know it and like to see them anyway.