BEST OF THE BELL JAR
I love Sylvia Plath. Her voice sounds just like the voice inside my head. All the words on this list are hers.
- •There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room.It's like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction--every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and that excitement at about a million miles an hour.
- •Don't let the wicked city get you down.
- •People were made of nothing but dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick or couldn't sleep.
- •He had what no American man I've ever met has had, and that's intuition.
- •I started adding up all the things I couldn't do.I began with cooking.
- •I saw myself sitting in the crotch of the fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
- •I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
- •As I paddled on, my heartbeat boomed like a dull motor in my ears.I am I am I am.
- •I laid my face on the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.
- •...wherever I sat--on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok--I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.
- •I had hoped, at my departure, I would feel sure and knowledgable about everything that lay ahead...Instead, all I could see were question marks.