the sky is not just pink, the rooftops not black

[ununoriginal]

"what i fear most, i think, is the death of the imagination.  when the sky outside is merely pink, and the rooftops merely black: that photographic mind which paradoxically tells the truth, but the worthless truth, about the world.  it is that synthesising spirit, that 'shaping' force, which prolifically sprouts and makes up its own worlds with more inventiveness than god which i desire.  if i sit still and don't do anything, the world goes on beating like a slack drum, without meaning.  we must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine: it is that kind of madness which is worst: the kind with fancies and hallucinations would be a bosch-ish relief."

- sylvia plath, 'cambridge notes'