[ Comment in television discussion about writers of the “Beat Generation” :] That isn’t writing at all, it’s typing.

It was a terrible, strange-looking hotel. But Little Sunshine stayed on: it was his rightful home, he said, for if he went away, as he had once upon a time, other voices, other rooms, voices lost and clouded, strummed his dreams.

I didn’t want to harm the man. I thought he was a very nice gentleman. Soft-spoken. I thought so right up to the moment I cut his throat.

I’m an alcoholic. I’m a drug addict. I’m homosexual. I’m a genius. Of course, I could be all four of these dubious things and still be a saint. But I shonuf ain’t no saint yet, nawsuh. v

When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self-flagellation.

A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That’s why there are so few good conversations: due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet.

Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.

Young men think old men are fools but old men know young men are fools.

It's a scientific fact that if you stay in California you lose one point of your IQ every year.

To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make.