Sylvia Plath Letter to her mother 24 February 1956
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Sylvia Plath Letter to her mother 24 February 1956
Jane Hirshfield, from a poem titled "Heat," featured in The Asking: New and Selected Poems
tell me how your day was. what mood you’re in. what music you’re listening to. what your plans are for the evening. or just write about your most secret fantasies or dreams. just be honest and committed—that’s enough.
every reread kills me a little bit more
reread and enjoy <3
getting older is all about getting weirder and sexier and more perverted and gluttonous and intelligent and blunt and eloquent and spontaneous and skilled. i love that for us.
You can’t miss a sign from God. It will get louder & louder until you get it.
every single person you know has something in their life and past that is probably worth collapsing to the ground in an uncontrollably sobbing heap over, so be nice to each other and tell good jokes
kinda want to go to a log cabin on a mountain with a nice fireplace and quilts and be peaceful for a while
liking someone romantically feels like psychosis to me
Oh shit. Sally Field kinda went off here. “The garment you knit for yourself as a child.” Might have to read her memoir now.
[Chris Dennis]
every winter solstice I am consumed with thoughts of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost...
i'm not a hater i simply just don't have that much hate in my heart. i Am driven by an incredible amount of burning contempt, however.
few things deserve my hatred but many are worthy of my contempt. you have to understand.
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If your life is horrible and you need a new source of meaning and direction.... Do NOT find religion. Learn to identify plants.