"Yes, I guess I did."
"What the hell for?"
"I don't know for sure yet. I think because I was sore."
"What at?"
"Myself."
"What for?"
"I don't know," Lennox said wearily. "It's like there were two of me ... and one didn't like the other. You know how every man's got a voice inside him that talks to him like a stranger. Mine didn't talk. It wrote letters."
"You aren't thinking about taking from a head-shrinker, are you?"
"I don't believe in them."
"Stay away from those guys, Jake. I wouldn't trust a talent that wasn't crazy a little. It's the crazy that makes you the writer. Stay with it and enjoy."