That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said.
Sylvia PlathWe know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by hate.
Sylvia PlathThat afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said.
Sylvia PlathWe know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by hate.
Sylvia Plath