I write when I’m inspired, and I see to it that I’m inspired at nine o’clock every morning.
I cannot honestly recall or retrace the conception or development of a single comedic idea I ever had or developed. They vanish from memory after they are written out. Don’t ask a cow how to analyze milk. One sits in a corner and secretes the stuff. One— But you see how right Kafka is? You have lured me into using the word “comedic,” which makes me sick.
You can make a sordid thing sound like a brilliant drawing-room comedy. Probably a fear we have of facing up to the real issues. Could you say we were guilty of Noel Cowardice?
The satirist shoots to kill while the humorist brings his prey back alive and eventually releases him again for another chance.
Comedy deals with the portion of our suffering that is exempt from tragedy.
Words fashioned with somewhat over precise diction are like shapes turned out by a cookie cutter.
Nonsense is such a difficult art!
I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork.
Posted by Jim 
Doodlemeister's Weblog 