The Only Truly Alien Planet Is Earth.

The American Dream Has Run Out Of Gas. The Car Has Stopped. It No Longer Supplies The World With Its Images, Its Dreams, Its Fantasies. No More. It's Over. It Supplies The World With Its Nightmares Now: The Kennedy Assassination, Watergate, Vietnam.

People Will Begin To Explore All The Sidestreets Of Sexual Experience, But They Will Do It Intellectually. . . . Sex Won't Take Place In The Bed, Necessarily--it'll Take Place In The Head!

I Find Wholly Baffling The Widespread Belief Today That The Dropping Of The Hiroshima And Nagasaki Bombs Was An Immoral Act, Even Possibly A War Crime To Rank With Nazi Genocide.

I Don't Think Any Particular Painters Have Inspired Me, Except In A General Sense. It Was More A Matter Of Corroboration. The Visual Arts, From Manet Onwards, Seemed Far More Open To Change And Experiment Than The Novel, Though That's Only Partly The Fault Of The Writers. There's Something About The Novel That Resists Innovation.

Maybe You Are A Poet And A Dreamer, But Don't You Realize That Those Two Species Are Extinct Now?