“Some kind of fun lasts longer than others.”

I think things are going to go right for me again. I’m not old. I’m old enough, but I photograph young, thank God, and I still have a public. I still get fan mail.

I worked out of desperation. I used to hit fast and run in hopes that people wouldn’t realize that I really couldn’t do anything.

I don’t know where it’s all going to lead. I have no idea where I’m going. I would just like to be happy.

I don’t even have many friends anymore because I backed away from them. When things went wrong for me I didn’t want them to have any part of my trouble.

Television excites me because it seems to be the last stamping ground of poetry, the last place where I hear women’s hair rhapsodically described, women’s faces acclaimed in odelike language.

I am so fascinated with this century it will help keep me alive. I’ll be there until the last minute, fighting.

Things last so much longer than people.

Live everyday as though it’s your last ’cause one day you’ll be right.

What I feel bad about is not having published very much in the last few years.

The Detroit String Quartet played Brahms last night. Brahms lost.

Over the last ten years, technological advances have dramatically lowered the financial bar for starting a new company, but the courage bar for building a great company remains as high as it has ever been.

The Germans are a cruel race. Their operas last for six hours and they have no word for fluffy.