Nothing Bad Can Happen To A Writer.

Nothing Lasts And Yet Nothing Passes Either, And Nothing Passes Just Because Nothing Lasts.

The Legend Engraved On The Face Of The Jewish Nickel- On The Body Of Every Jewish Child!- Not In God We Trust, But Someday You'll Be A Parent And You'll Know What It's Like.

What I Have In Mind When I Start To Write Could Fit Inside An Acorn-an Acorn, Moreover, That Rarely If Ever Grows Into An Oak. Write Fiction And You Relinquish Reason. You Start With An Acorn And You End Up With A Mackerel.

I Do Not Say Correct Or Savory. I Do Not Say Seemly Or Even Natural. I Say Serious. Sensationally Serious. Unspeakably Serious. Solemnly, Recklessly, Blissfully Serious.

The Secret To Living In The Rush Of The World With A Minimum Of Pain Is To Get As Many People As Possible To String Along With Your Delusions; The Trick To Living Alone Up Here, Away From All Agitating Entanglements, Allurements, And Expectations, Apart Especially From One's Own Intensity, Is To Organize The Silence, To Think Of Its Mountaintop Plenitude As Capital, Silence As Wealth Exponentially Increasing. The Encircling Silence As Your Chosen Source Of Advantage And Your Only Intimate.