The Writer's Job Is To Get Naked.

I First Became Fascinated With The Sears Catalogue Because All The People In Its Pages Were Perfect. Nearly Everybody I Knew Had Something Missing, A Finger Cut Off, A Toe Split, An Ear Half-chewed Away, An Eye Clouded With Blindness From A Glancing Fence Staple. And If They Didn't Have Something Missing, They Were Carrying Scars From Barbed Wire, Or Knives, Or Fishhooks. But The People In The Catalogue Had No Such Hurts. They Were Not Only Whole, Had All Their Arms And Legs And Eyes On Their Unscarred Bodies, But They Were Also Beautiful.

Writing A Book Is Like Torture That You Don't Know, But After It's Done And There It Is. It's A Joy Like Unlike Anything Else, I Think It's The Closest That A Man Can Come To Knowing What Is Feels Like To Have A Baby.

There Ought To Be A Law Against The Sun Rising And Setting For You In Somebody Else.

God Love The Car. It Has Shown The Naked Heart That Lives In All Of Us. Man Invented The Car But The Car -- Out Of Pure Malevolence No Doubt -- Changed The History Of The World By Reinventing Man.

I Am Not Perfect." It Came Out In A Rush Of Breath. "see I Thought I Was. Thank God I Ain't. See A Perfect Thing Ain't Got A Chance. The World Kills It, Everything Perfect. (listen To Him!) Now See A Thing That Ain't Perfect, It Grows Like A Weed. Yeah, Like A Weed! A Thing That Ain't Perfect Gets Hand Clapping, Smiles, Takes The Wire An Easy Winner. But The World Ain't Set Up Right If You Perfect. You Lible To Run Right Into A Brick Wall. Looks Like Suicide. All The Weeds Say, Looka There, It Suicide!