Flies Die In So Many Lonely Places.

You Have To Be Willing To Spend Time Making Things For No Known Reason.

Sometimes, I Think The Only Art Left For Us Is Slowly Peeling The Label Off A Beer Bottle While Somebody Tells You About A Dream They Had.

The Thing That Really Struck Me When I Went To Junior High Was Class. I Grew Up On A Pretty Poor Street, But The School District I Was In Included Some Fine Neighborhoods - So I Got To Know A Couple Of The Kids From Those Places And Went To Their Houses And Experienced Such Culture Shock.

I've Gotten A Lot Of Livid Letters About The Awfulness Of My Work. I've Never Known What To Make Of It. Why Do People Bother To Write If They Hate What I Do?

You Know That Great Car-stomach Feeling When You Fly Over A Hump? That Was My Whole Body.