I'm not a writer. Ernest Hemingway was a writer. I just have a vivid imagination and type 90 WPM.

Most men claim to desire driven, independent and confident women. Yet when confronted with such a creature reverence often evolves into resent. For just like women, men need to be needed.

We the people have no excuse for starry-eyed sycophantic group-think in the Information Age. Knowledge is but a fingertip away.

True art is thoughtful, emotional examination of how human themes impact the overall experience of existing. The rest is kitsch.

Of all the religions in the world, perhaps the religion of liberty is the only faith capable of purity.

If the novel is dead, I'm a necrophiliac.

While writing is like a joyful release, editing is a prison where the bars are my former intentions and the abusive warden my own neuroticism.

Women that can work a camera with ease often work men just as effortlessly for both require the same commitment to vanity and manipulation.

No man owns me. All man can do is practice the timeless, criminal art of threatening to separate my soul from her physical host.

Political corruption, social greed, and Americanized quasi-socialism can ruin even the most wonderful places. California proved that.

Nothing renews my faith in humanity more than the exchange of compassion so profound that mere words cannot embrace it.

Sometimes a short cut is just a short cut to disaster.

Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity.

Talents too many, not enough of any.

Jazz will endure just as long as people hear it through their feet instead of their brains.

I think Lady Gaga is great and is changing pop music and bringing back a certain rock 'n' roll spirit, swagger to the game.

dreams are shadows cast by truth shining on our darkest secrets

It's a good thing Kerry's dead, because that funeral would've sent him over the edge," Henry said.

The starting point of a picture for any painter is a matter of colors and form...I believe that the poetry of art - if that is what one may call it - is a matter of animating these forms and colors.

For years, I've pushed the idea of a column compilation book mainly because it would be easy - I could just staple 'em all together. But publishers have been resistent, feeling the material dates.

The neurotic's strongest fantasy is that he has no fantasies. The real is very real to him, the unreal even more so.