People Don't Die From The

And We Passed Through The Cavern Of Rats. And We Passed Through The Path Of Boiling Steam. And We Passed Through The Country Of The Blind. And We Passed Through The Slough Of Despond. And We Passed Through The Vale Of Tears. And We Came, Finally, To The Ice Caverns.

There Is Harlan Ellison The Human Being, Who Takes A Crap A Couple Of Times A Day, And Who Farts, And Who Eats Chicken Croquettes, If I Can Find Them. And Then There Is The Writer, This Writer-person, Who Is A Much Finer Person Than I. Much More Orderly, Much More Meaningful. Worthier, Than I [am].

The More You Know, The More Unflinchingly You Deny Casual Beliefs And Accepted Wisdom When It Flies In The Face Of Reality, The More Carefully You Observe The World And Its People Around You, The Better Chance You Have Of Writing Something Meaningful And Well-crafted.

I Usually Say I Write For The Smartest, Cleverest, Wittiest Audience I Know, And That's Me.

I Cannot Pay Attention To What People Say About My Work. For Me, Personally, I Am Just This Shards-and-ashes Human Being, Who Really Gets Upset When Someone Says Something Bad About Me. If It's True, I Cop To It. If I Have Any Good Qualities, It's That.