Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy & peaceful.
Sylvia PlathI have done, this year, what I said I would: overcome my fear of facing a blank page day after day, acknowledging myself, in my deepest emotions, a writer, come what may.
Sylvia PlathI felt the mask crumple, the great poisonous store of corrosive ashes begin to spew out of my mouth.
Sylvia Plath