At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
Wendy Cope, The Orange (2002).
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"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I an horribly limited.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (1982).
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“But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1961).
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“The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (1923).
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I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it— the help by kathryn stockett.
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“The trouble about jumping was that if you didn't pick the right number of storeys, you might still be alive when you hit bottom.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1961).
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I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in it— wuthering heights by emily brontë.
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