She was crazy but he needed her. Oh I am in so much trouble he thought, and stared blindly up at the ceiling as the droplets of sweat began to gather on his forehead again.

I am your number one fan.

He lay back, put his arm over his eyes, and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.

Such an ego simply forbade certain lines of thought.

There are lots of guys out there who write a better prose line than I do and who have a better understanding of what people are really like and what humanity is supposed to mean – hell, I know that.

He felt as he always did when he finished a book — queerly empty, let down, aware that for each little success he had paid a toll of absurdity.

... good advice was sometimes easier to give than receive.

He felt gladness roar through his soul.

A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.

But if you needed to HAVE AN IDEA, boredom could be to a roadblocked novel what chemotherapy was to a cancer patient.

... when editors were flattered, they would sometimes give in on some of their mad ideas.

I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.

Now mine eyes see the heart that once we did search for, and I fear this heart shall be mended, nevermore.

We were wanderers from the beginning.

But let me tell you something. Gloria Steinem never helped me out; Larry Flynt did.

Follow me and do exactly what the song says Smoke weed, take pills, drop outta school, kill people And drink and jump behind the wheel like it was still legal.

We are superior to the joy we experience.

No matter how much you give a homeless person for tea... you never get that tea.

The first springs of great events, like those of great rivers, are often mean and little.

A humorist doesn't really do that much note-taking.

We're all haunted in one way or another, are we not? If not by spirits, then by our own demons and regrets.