Let's say there was a burning building and you could rush in and you could save only one thing: either the last known copy of Shakespeare's plays or some anonymous human being. What would you do?

You will notice that what we are aiming at when we fall in love is a very strange paradox. The paradox consists of the fact that, when we fall in love, we are seeking to re-find all or some of the people to whom we were attached as children. On the other hand, we ask our beloved to correct all of the wrongs that these early parents or siblings inflicted upon us. So that love contains in it the contradiction: The attempt to return to the past and the attempt to undo the past.

Right now it's only a notion, but I think I can get the money to make it into a concept, and later turn it into an idea.

Until you've been kissed on a rainy Parisian afternoon - you've never been kissed.

When I'm writing something, if there's a part that's good for me, then I'll play it. Otherwise, I don't. And I notice that there are less and less parts for me in my own writing.

My luck is getting worse and worse. Last night, for instance, I was mugged by a quaker.

The curtain rises on a vast primitive wasteland, not unlike certain parts of New jersey.