I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

There are hours for rest, and hours for wakefulness; nights for sobriety and nights for drunkenness_(if only so that possession of the former allows us to discern the latter when we have it; for sad as it is, no human body can be happily drunk all the time).

Just write. That's my only tip. And read. I guess that's two.

Wine and a straitjacket. That pretty much sums it up.

I am forever an advocate of books, both the reading of them and the writing. There is something sacred to me in that community. Because writing--and reading--is a solitary business. And it__ good to know I__ not alone.

There was a day when writers actually read," he grumbles. "They could quote Keats and Socrates. Now anyone with a keyboard and a fifth-grade education can call themselves a writer.