“We're all running away. Some of us just don't get very far.”

“The world was getting dangerously crowded with crazy people.”

“Carol would not be a bad one to [settle down] with. She's pretty and bright, and maybe this is what love is. She's good company: her interests broaden almost every day. She reads three books to my one, and I read a lot. We talk far into the night. She still doesn't understand the first edition game: Hemingway, she says, reads just as well in a two-bit paperback as he does in a $500 first printing. I can still hear myself lecturing her the first time she said that. Only a fool would read a first edition. Simply having such a book makes life in general and Hemingway in particular go better when you do break out the reading copies. I listened to myself and thought, This woman must think I'm a government-inspected horse's ass. Then I showed her my Faulkners, one with a signature, and I saw her shiver with an almost sexual pleasure as she touched the paper where he signed. Faulkner was her most recent god[.]”

“The camera would miss it all. A magnificent picture is never worth a thousand perfect words. Ansel Adams can be a great artist, but he can never be Shakespeare. His tools are too literal.”

“What's that old cowboy saying? Never was a horse that couldn't be rode, never was a man who couldn't be throwed.”

“There is something about a Martini,Ere the dining and dancing begin,And to tell you the truth,It is not the vermouth--I think that perhaps it's the gin." --Ogden Nash”

“We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.”