I Have Always Tried To Write In

The Place Smelled Of Fairgrounds, Of Lazy Crowds, Of Nights When You Stayed Out Because You Couldn't Go To Bed, And It Smelled Like New York, Of Its Calm And Brutal Indifference.

One Of Them, For Example, Which Will Probably Haunt Me More Than Any Other Is The Problem Of Communication.

It Just Happened. As Though A Moment Comes When It's Both Necessary And Natural To Make A Decision That Has Long Since Been Made.

I Have Made Love To Ten Thousand Women.

The Lake And The Mountains Have Become My Landscape, My Real World.