Well, if I don't get at least 16 hours, I'm a basket case.

I was in analysis for years because of a traumatic childhood; I was breast-fed through falsies.

I should go to Paris and jump off of the Eiffel Tower. If I took the Concorde, I could be dead three hours earlier.

If you're not failing, you're not trying anything.

That’s one of the nice things about writing, or any art; if the thing’s real, it just lives.

My parents stayed together for forty years. But that was out of spite.

The prison psychiatrist asked me if I thought sex was dirty. I told him only when it's done right.