Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it.
Sylvia PlathIt 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 PlathI need not to be more with others, but to be more & more deeply, richly alone. Recreating worlds.
Sylvia Plath