I'm Very Lazy, I Hate To Work.

Money...buys Privacy, Silence. The Less Money You Have, The Noisier It Is; The Thinner Your Walls, The Closer Your Neighbors.... The First Thing You Notice When You Step Into The House Or Apartment Of A Rich Person Is How Quiet It Is.

I Write So Slowly, I Could Write With My Own Blood And Not Hurt Myself.

There Is No Such Thing As Inner Peace. There Is Only Nervousness Or Death. Any Attempt To Prove Otherwise Constitutes Unacceptable Behavior.

Because I Was Young, I Had This Long Hair, And People Used To Try To Tip Me With Joints.

I Have A Real Aversion To Machines. I Write With A Pen. Then I Read It To Someone Who Writes It Onto The Computer. What Are Those Computer Letters Made Of Anyway? Light? Too Insubstantial. Paper, You Can Feel It. A Pen. There's A Connection. A Pen Goes Exactly At Your Speed, Whereas That Machine Jumps. And Then, That Machine Is Waiting For You, Just Humming "uh-huh, Yes?