After all, what was the whole wide world but a place for people to yearn for their heart's impossible desires, for those desires to become entrenched in defiance of logic, plausibility, and even the passage of time, as eternal as polished marble.

I just have this feeling that if it weren't for the Gloversville Free Library that I probably would not be a writer.

Cary Grant never won an Oscar, primarily, I suspect, because he made everything look so effortless. Why reward someone for having fun, for being charming?

He looks like he could be taken in a fight. Not by me, but by somebody. Not anyone in Humanities, probably.

If you work at comedy too laboriously, you can kill what's funny in the joke.

Sleep is over-rated. Have you ever noticed how it's always recommended to people anybody with half a brain can see need to wake up?

I looked back at some of my earlier published stories with genuine horror and remorse. I got thinking, How many extant copies might there be, who owns them, and do they keep their doors locked?