“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson
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@beyondtheciouds
“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Never did the world make a queen of a girl who hides in houses and dreams without traveling.” ― Roman Payne, The Wanderess
“Ex amore et silentio.” – Dante Alighieri
“Out of love and silence.”Â
“Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt.” – Seneca
“Fate guides the willing and drags the unwilling.”
“A heavy naughtiness pricked through my veins, irritating and attractive as the hurt of a loose tooth.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“The silence surged back, smoothing itself as black water smooths to its old surface calm over a dropped stone.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
“The stars align us, they do not bind us.”
Dulce periculum.
Danger is sweet.
“So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children, it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“A feeling of tenderness filled my heart. My heroine would be myself, only in disguise.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“I felt the same profound thrill it gives me to see trees and grassland waist-high under flood water―as if the usual order of the world had shifted slightly, and entered a new phase.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“Words, dimly familiar but twisted all awry, like faces in a funhouse mirror, fled past, leaving no impression on the glassy surface of my brain.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar