I Think That In Order To Write

Celebratin' New Year's Eve Is Like Eatin' Oranges. You Got To Let Go Your Dignity T' Really Enjoy 'em.

Wasn't Marriage, Like Life, Unstimulating And Unprofitable And Somewhat Empty When Too Well Ordered And Protected And Guarded. Wasn't It Finer, More Splendid, More Nourishing, When It Was, Like Life Itself, A Mixture Of The Sordid And The Magnificent; Of Mud And Stars; Of Earth And Flowers; Of Love And Hate And Laughter And Tears And Ugliness And Beauty And Hurt.

But I Have Felt That To Be A Jew Was, In Some Ways At Least, To Be Especially Privileged.

The Writer Is A Writer Because He Cannot Help It. It Is A Compulsion.

I Suppose It Is A Gift, Being Young, But It Isn't Special. We've All Got It, Early In Life.