Because there is no cosmic point to the life that each of us perceives on this distant bit of dust at the galaxy's edge... there is all the more reason for us to maintain in proper balance what we have here. Because there is nothing else. Nothing. This is it. And quite enough, all in all.

Politics is made up of to words; 'poli,' which is Greek for 'many,' and 'tics' which are blood-sucking insects

Traitors who prevail are patriots usurpers who succeed are divine emperors.

It's not enough to succeed. Others must fail.

Southerners make such good novelists; they have so many good stories because they have so much family.

Democracy is supposed to give you a feeling of choice, like painkiller x and painkiller y. But they're both just aspirin.

You hear all this whining going on, 'Where are our great writers?' The thing I might feel doleful about is: Where are the readers?

We're not a democracy.

Love is not my bag.

I am not, at heart, a playwright.