Kafka is still unrecognized. He thought he was a comic writer.

There are things in American culture that want to wipe the class distinction. Blue jeans. Ready-made clothes. Coca-Cola.

Henry Miller wrote novels, but he calls his protagonist Henry, often Henry Miller, and his books are in this gray area between memoir and novel.

I long for the raised voice, the howl of rage or love.

I think the pattern of my essays is, A funny thing happened to me on my way through Finnegans Wake.

Gertrude Stein really thought of Hemingway as frail. He almost married Stein.

The text is merely one of the contexts of a piece of literature, its lexical or verbal one, no more or less important than the sociological, psychological, historical, anthropological or generic.

Raymond Carver is good. I think he'll be appreciated more and more. He's an easy writer to imitate.

I have, I admit, a low tolerance for detached chronicling and cool analysis.

My assignment is what every writer's assignment is: tell the truth of his own time.

The black situation has changed. They finally realized they're Americans.

Gin a body meets a body Comin' through the rye. Gin a body kiss a body Need a body cry?

If youth but knew and age were able Then poverty would be a fable.

Art is dangerous. It is one of the attractions: when it ceases to be dangerous you don't want it.

I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.

Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.

The kind of crabbing my wife likes to do is to return from an afternoon's swim or sunbathing session, open the refrigerator door, and find a generous plate of crab cakes all ready to cook.

How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them?

I was trying to break out of the suburbs, and when I did break out, I don't think I took my whole self with me - I think I played a role of being too cool and hip.

Believe me, you lose more than a gallon of fluids during a race. You could lose between six and 10 pounds during a race, depending on hot it is.

The night is made for tenderness,--so still that the low whisper, scarcely audible, is heard like music,--and so deeply pure that the fond thought is chastened as it springs and on the lip made holy.