When You Publish A Book,

I Work Just As Much As I Always Worked. And I Can't Explain The Fact That There Have Been A Series Of Books Coming Rather Regularly Out Of Me. I Work Most Days And If You Work Most Days And You Get At Least A Page Done A Day, Then At The End Of The Year You Have 365. So The Pages Accumulate And Then I Publish The Books.

Any Satirist Writing A Futuristic Novel Who Had Imagined A President Reagan During The Eisenhower Years Would Have Been Accused Of Perpetrating A Piece Of Crude, Contemptible, Adolescent, Anti-american Wickedness, When, In Fact, He Would Have Succeeded, As Prophetic Sentry, Where Orwell Failed.

When I Was A Child... I Was Watching A Snowstorm, And Hopefully Asked, 'momma, Do We Believe In Winter?'

There Were Many Hours When I Never Quite Know How I'd Gotten There Or Why I Stayed.

People Were Standing Up Everywhere Shouting, "this Is Me! This Is Me!" Every Time You Looked At Them They Stood Up And Told You Who They Were, And The Truth Of It Was That They Had No More Idea Who Or What They Were Than He Had. They Believed Their Flashing Signs, Too. They Ought To Be Standing Up And Shouting, "this Isn't Me! This Isn't Me!" They Would If They Had Any Decency. "this Isn't Me!" Then You Might Know How To Proceed Through The Flashing Bullshit Of This World.