Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.
Sylvia PlathTo the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.
Sylvia PlathI am afraid of getting older โฆ I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a dayโspare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be freeโฆ. I want, I want to think, to be omniscientโฆ. I think I would like to call myself โThe girl who wanted to be God.
Sylvia Plath