I pretended not to understand. One of life's hardest jobs, to make a quick understanding slow. I think I succeeded, thought Herzog.

You have, like the external world, your own phenomena inside.

Death deserves dignity.

The late philosopher Morris R. Cohen of CCNY was asked by a student in the metaphysics course, Professor Cohen, how do I know that I exist? The keen old prof replied, And who is asking?

A novel is balanced between a few true impressions and the multitude of false ones that make up most of what we call life.

I am deeply moved when I write. I get turned on by it. I've never used any drugs for stimulation. I don't use words loosely. When I'm working and the right word comes, there is an answering resonance within me. There is also a hardness of intention that goes with it. There is no idleness in it.

She's very pretty but she's honey from the icebox, if you know what I mean. Cold sweets won't spread.