I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn't say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers.
Sylvia PlathWe must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.
Sylvia PlathVery depressed today. Unable to write a thing. Menacing gods. I feel outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness.
Sylvia PlathI 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.
Sylvia PlathI feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again.
Sylvia PlathSo, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of fresh-fallen snow, with the myriad sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.
Sylvia Plath