xposted to sylvia_plath
"...and the material, inert world mocked me."
There are sleeps that are born of spring and the slumbering hibernation of beaars in leaf-hushed caves... My shut eyelids felt the sun,, and my nose smelled the warm earth and my skin felt warm wind. Eyes close, body not yet mind, but still part of something - of air, of earth, of fire, of water.
"It is the strangers who are eastiest to love at
this hard time. Because they do not demand and watch.
Always watch."
"The sky falls in, and my body betrays."
"I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic."
"What word blue could get that dazzling drench of blue moonlight on the flat, luminous feild ofwhite snow, with the black tress against the skiy, each with its particular configuration of branches? I felt shut in, imprisoned, aware that it was fine and shudderingly beautiful, but too gone with pain, and aching to respond and become part of it."
"So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of fresh-fallen snow, with the myraid sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark tress, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever. With masks down, I walk, talking to the moon, to the neutral impersonal force that does not hear, but merely acepts my being. And does not smite me."
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. Sylvia was so unbelievably brilliant
There are sleeps that are born of spring and the slumbering hibernation of beaars in leaf-hushed caves... My shut eyelids felt the sun,, and my nose smelled the warm earth and my skin felt warm wind. Eyes close, body not yet mind, but still part of something - of air, of earth, of fire, of water.
"It is the strangers who are eastiest to love at
this hard time. Because they do not demand and watch.
Always watch."
"The sky falls in, and my body betrays."
"I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic."
"What word blue could get that dazzling drench of blue moonlight on the flat, luminous feild ofwhite snow, with the black tress against the skiy, each with its particular configuration of branches? I felt shut in, imprisoned, aware that it was fine and shudderingly beautiful, but too gone with pain, and aching to respond and become part of it."
"So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of fresh-fallen snow, with the myraid sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark tress, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever. With masks down, I walk, talking to the moon, to the neutral impersonal force that does not hear, but merely acepts my being. And does not smite me."
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. Sylvia was so unbelievably brilliant