... when editors were flattered, they would sometimes give in on some of their mad ideas.

I am your number one fan.

He lay back, put his arm over his eyes, and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.

Such an ego simply forbade certain lines of thought.

There are lots of guys out there who write a better prose line than I do and who have a better understanding of what people are really like and what humanity is supposed to mean – hell, I know that.

He felt as he always did when he finished a book — queerly empty, let down, aware that for each little success he had paid a toll of absurdity.

... good advice was sometimes easier to give than receive.

He felt gladness roar through his soul.

A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.

But if you needed to HAVE AN IDEA, boredom could be to a roadblocked novel what chemotherapy was to a cancer patient.

She was crazy but he needed her. Oh I am in so much trouble he thought, and stared blindly up at the ceiling as the droplets of sweat began to gather on his forehead again.

You never have anything because you fought for nothing.

We walked through night until there was a poem.

I Believe When People Go To Hell, They Relive Their Worst Life Experience, Over And Over Again.

I don't want a Jennifer Lopez wedding or anything like that. A commitment ceremony would be a nice thing to do.

The opportunity to write for the 'L.A. Weekly' has been one of the better breaks that has come my way in a long time.

I forged myself out of a vacuum. I crawl along the highway on hacked off stumps year after year. Some wonder how and why. I never do.

It is better to be An old man's derling than a yong man's werling.

Yo' Momma, I'm a ghetto super star.

You shoulda left the other day You let me beg for you to stay

Chess is the only game greater than its players.