From the book, Yours, Isaac Asimov.
The worst of writing and publishing 20,000,000 words is that I often don't recognize quotations attributed to me.
I routinely make a lunch date on Yom Kippur. I don't intend to qualify for any heaven.
I hate this system of having holidays come on Monday so that non-working bums can have three-day weekends. It means that I am forever running into Mondays when there is no mail pickup. I work seven days a week and take no holidays-like you're supposed to. If America wants to be "competitive," we h ad all better do it, grumble grumble.
I know it's un-American, perhaps, to love one's work, but I can't help it.
Uncle SAm takes 40 percent of my income, but he's welcome to it. He provides me with a nice country in exchange. If he could only figure out some way to stop with the Vietnam thing and put it all into the war on poverty, into unpolluting the environment and beautifying and conserving the countryside-he could have 50 percent.
At least 95 percent of all successful writers (who sell books) do not make a living at it. Then why should anyone write?
As nearly as I can make out, people write because they are impelled to, because it gives them pleasure. It's like playing bridge or chess or golf, or going hiking or skiing. You don't make a living in by far the majority of cases. You do it because you want to.