Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
Sylvia PlathWith me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.
Sylvia PlathFor the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
Sylvia Plath