He removed his unvaluable valuables and dumped his shirt, pants, and skivvies into a letter slot.

And people who don’t dream, who don’t have any kind of imaginative life, they must… they must go nuts. I can’t imagine that.

No good friends, no bad friends; only people you want, need to be with. People who build their houses in your heart.

Remember that 'plumber in space' is not such a bad setup for a story.

Try any goddam thing you like, no matter how boringly normal or outrageous. If it works, fine. If it doesn't, toss it. Toss it even if you love it.

I never met a writer who wasn't lazy.

In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn't it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all.