Was anything in the world truer than that intuitive leap of the heart?

People often ask me how I make things funny. I don't make things funny.

You can't possibly judge your ability to control something until you've experienced the extremes of its capabilities. Do you understand?

My God, he couldn't help thinking, how terrible it is to be that age, to have emotions so near the surface that the slightest turbulence causes them to boil over. That, very simply, was what adulthood must be all about -- acquiring the skill to bury things more deeply. Out of sight and, whenever possible, out of mind.

I read pretty voraciously. If it's good, I don't care what it is.

Were it not for Occam's Razor, which always demands simplicity, I'd be tempted to believe that human beings are more influenced by distant causes than immediate ones. This would especially be true of overeducated people, who are capable of thinking past the immediate, of becoming obsessed by the remote. It's the old stuff, the conflicts we've never come to terms with, that sneaks up on us, half forgotten, insisting upon action.

Where was the middle ground between a sense of adventure and just plain sense?