What if nothing exists and we're all in somebody's dream? Or what's worse, what if only that fat guy in the third row exists?

I always write the same way. I always write with a yellow pad and a ballpoint pen on my bed. And then I go and type it up afterwards. I've always done that. Those things become habitual.

Life is a concentration camp. You're stuck here and there's no way out and you can only rage impotently against your persecutors.

All literature is a footnote to Faust. I have no idea what I mean by that.

You know, it's one thing about intellectuals, they prove that you can be absolutely brilliant and have no idea what's going on.

To me there’s no real difference between a fortune teller or a fortune cookie and any of the organized religions. They’re all equally valid or invalid, really. And equally helpful.

What was the scandal? I fell in love with this girl, married her. We have been married for almost 15 years now.