Dear Mother, I meant to write you before this and I hope you haven't been worried.... I have met some Beautiful People and...

Everything was becoming allegorical, understood by the group mind, and especially this: "You're either on the bus...or off the bus.

I don't think journalists should talk about whom they're voting for.

And - of course! - the Non-people. The whole freaking world was full of people who were bound to tell you they weren't qualified to do this or that but they were determined to go ahead and do just that thing anyway.

People complain about my exclamation points, but I honestly think that's the way people think. I don't think people think in essays; it's one exclamation point to another.

Frankly, these days, without a theory to go with it, I can't see a painting.

Driving a stock car does not require much handling ability, at least not as compared to Grand Prix racing, because the tracks are simple banked ovals and there is almost no shifting of gears. So, qualifying becomes a test of raw nerve - of how fast a man is willing to take a curve.