I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.
My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.
I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
I knew I should be grateful to Mrs Guinea, only I couldn't feel a thing. If Mrs Guinea had given me a ticket to Europe, or a round-the-world cruise, it wouldn't have made one scrap of difference to me...
When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.
I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me.
That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses.Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
Sylvia Plath is there for me when actual living people upon who I have depended upon my whole life, are not. What I mean to say is, without her words, I'd be exponentially more messed up than I am alr...
Not easy to state the change you made.If I'm alive now, I was dead,Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.
I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.