I Take Real People And Put Them

It Would Be The Death Of All Creativity For Me If I Had To Sit There And Be Concerned With The Sensibilities Of A Fourteen-year-old Kid. Some Fourteen-year-olds Would Revel In The Book, And Some Would Be Very Sensitive To It, So You Can't Afford To Worry About That. What I Worry About Is Good Taste And Getting My Message Across By Whatever Means I Can.

As Much As There Is Joy In Writing, There's Always The Little Bit Of Terror To Keep You On Edge, On Your Toes. It Is A Strange Way To Occupy Yourself - To Enjoy Your Life On A Daily Basis. There Is No Guarantee That Something Great Is Going To Come Next.

It Came To Me That Hell Would Not Be Fire And Smoke After All But Arctic, Everything White And Frigid. Hell Would Be Not Anger But Indifference.

Why Did The Wise Guys Always Accuse Other People Of Being Wise Guys?

He Hated To Think Of His Own Life Stretching Ahead Of Him That Way, A Long Succession Of Days And Nights That Were Fine - Not Good, Not Bad, Not Great, Not Lousy, Not Exciting, Not Anything.