It won't happen yet, Ellen mused, mashing cooked carrots for Jill's lunch. Breakups seldom do. It will unfold slowly, one little tell-tale symptom after another like some awful, hellish flower.
Sylvia PlathThe reason I haven't been writing in this book for so long is partly that I haven't had one decent coherent thought to put down.
Sylvia PlathI sank back in the gray, plush seat and closed my eyes. The air of the bell jar wadded round me and I couldn't stir.
Sylvia Plath