The moment a man sets his thoughts down on paper, however secretly, he is in a sense writing for publication.

Throw up into your typewriter every morning. Clean up every noon.

I think a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it.

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean.

I have a sense of exile from thought, a nostalgia of the quiet room and balanced mind. I am a writer, and there comes a time when that which I write has to belong to me, has to be written alone and in silence, with no one looking over my shoulder, no one telling me a better way to write it. It doesn't have to be great writing, it doesn't even have to be terribly good. It just has to be mine.

When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.