I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can. - Sylvia Plath

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.