I Feel Like I'm Not Smart Enough

The Snowy Owl Has Eyes That Look Just Like Mine, Especially When It Widens Them. And While I Stand There, Staring At It, Lowering My Sunglasses, Something Unspoken Passes Between Me And The Bird - There's This Weird Kind Of Tension, A Bizarre Pressure, That Fuels The Following, Which Starts, Happens, Ends, Very Quickly.

Women Aren't Very Bright," Rip Says. "studies Have Been Done.

I Wasn't Acting On Passion. I Was Simply Acting.

I'm Not A Big Believer In Disciplined Writers. What Does Discipline Mean? The Writer Who Forces Himself To Sit Down And Write For Seven Hours Every Day Might Be Wasting Those Seven Hours If He's Not In The Mood And Doesn't Feel The Juice. I Don't Think Discipline Equals Creativity.

I Have All The Characteristics Of A Human Being: Blood, Flesh, Skin, Hair; But Not A Single, Clear, Identifiable Emotion, Except For Greed And Disgust. Something Horrible Is Happening Inside Of Me And I Don't Know Why. My Nightly Bloodlust Has Overflown Into My Days. I Feel Lethal, On The Verge Of Frenzy. I Think My Mask Of Sanity Is About To Slip.