I Don't Want My Books

It's No Good Looking To Writers For Definitions Of What Constitutes Proper Writing, Because You Will Drive Yourself Crazy, And You Won't Find Anything That You Can Build Into A Coherent Whole.

Asking The Head I Have Now To Explain Its Own Thinking Is As Pointless As Dialing Your Own Telephone Number On Your Own Telephone: Either Way, You Get An Engaged Signal. Or Your Own Answer Message, If You Have That Kind Of Phone System.

What Harm Has He Ever Done To You?' 'you Know What Harm He's Done Me. He Offended Me With His Terrible Taste.

Cynicism Is Our Shared Common Language, The Esperanto That Actually Caught On, And Though I'm Not Fluent In It - I Like Too Many Things, And I'm Not Envious Of Enough People - I Know Enough To Get By.

The Truth About Autobiographical Songs, He Realized, Was That You Had To Make The Present Become The Past, Somehow: You Had To Take A Feeling Or A Friend Or A Woman And Turn Whatever It Was Into Something That Was Over, So That You Could Be Definitive About It. You Had To Put It In A Glass Case And Look At It And Think About It Until It Gave Up Its Meaning.