“You're into happiness?" the technician says, her eyes never leaving the computer screen."I'm writing a book about it," I say."About happiness?" she says."Yes," I say." Didn't the Dali Lama already write that book?”

“I just got a fortune cookie that says "Turn off your computer and read a book" which is odd because I'm WRITING a book...on my computer!”

“When I met a truly beautiful girl, I would tell her that if she spent the night with me, I would write a novel or a story about her. This usually worked; and if her name was to be in the title of the story, it almost always worked. Then, later, when we'd passed a night of delicious love-making together, after she’d gone and I’d felt that feeling of happiness mixed with sorrow, I sometimes would write a book or story about her. Sometimes her character, her way about herself, her love-making, it sometimes marked me so heavily that I couldn't go on in life and be happy unless I wrote a book or a story about that woman, the happy and sad memory of that woman. That was the only way to keep her, and to say goodbye to her without her ever leaving.”

“Didn't books say that too: that there is always price to pay for happiness?”

“Guess what Jeff found in his cabin for me," Grete says, "another book by the Martian Chronicle guy." "Ray Bradburrow", Jeff says. Bradbury, I think. "Yeah, right, Something Wicked This Way Comes," Grete says, "It's good". She chirps the last bit as if that were all to say about a book. It's good or it's bad, I liked it or I didn't. No discussions of the writing, the themes, the nuances, the structure. Just good or bad - like a hot dog.”

“In general, [. . .] novel-theorists have nothing very urgent or interesting to say about literature. Why then do they write when they have nothing to say? Because the ambitious teacher can only rise in the academic bureaucracy by writing at complicated length about writing that has already been much written about. The result of all this book-chat cannot interest anyone who knows literature while those who would like to learn something about books can only be mystified and discouraged by these commentaries.”