The enormous range of some real-world great artists– and the degree to which it elicits responses of both “WOW!” and “WTF?!”– is a pretty good inoculation against insecurity about one’s own artistic range, in either direction

Whether my self-doubt takes the form of “I always create the same thing,” or “I never create the same thing and have no cohesive style”– it always helps me to remind myself that the poet responsible for “The Hollow Men,” “The Wasteland” and “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” is the same one responsible for the musical CATS