I don't know how long I kept at it...
I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still.
It didn't seem to be summer any more
Stichwörter: sylvia-plath safe summer still floor bell-jar
There was a beautiful time...
Sylvia PlathStichwörter: beauty time beautiful bell-jar
Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.
Sylvia PlathThere ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.
Sylvia PlathI am accused. I dream of massacres.
I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them,
Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the
world conceives
Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.
Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.
Sylvia PlathI opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.
Sylvia PlathI could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
Sylvia PlathI said: I must remember this, being small.
Sylvia PlathNow I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - - like a disease of the blood, dispersed throughout the body so that one cannot locate the matrix, the spot of contagion.
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