"You know what some old time bums used to tattoo on their arms:'BORN TO DIE.' As corny as that sounds it's basic wisdom." "What do you think the bums have tattoed on their arms now?" "I don't know. Probably something like 'JESUS SHAVES.'"

He picked up Camus' Resistance, Rebellion and Death . . . read some pages. Camus talked about anguish and terror and the miserable condition of Man but he talked about it in such a comfortable and flowery way . . . his language . . . that one got the feeling that things neither affected him nor his writing. In other words, things might as well have been fine. Camus wrote like a man who had just finished a large dinner of steak and french fries, salad, and had topped it with a bottle of good French wine. Humanity may have been suffering but not him. A wise man, perhaps, but Henry preferred somebody who screamed when they burned.

My only ambition is not to be anything at all; it seems the most sensible thing.