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  • #1
    Margaret Atwood
    “Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren't catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you're unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.”
    Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride

  • #2
    Friedrich Nietzsche
    “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?”
    Friedrich Nietzsche

  • #3
    Sylvia Plath
    “I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak”
    Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #4
    Sylvia Plath
    “The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #5
    Sylvia Plath
    “When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #6
    Sylvia Plath
    “I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #7
    Sylvia Plath
    “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 my life. And I am horribly limited.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #8
    Sylvia Plath
    “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this 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.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #9
    Sylvia Plath
    “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #10
    Sylvia Plath
    “The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #11
    Sylvia Plath
    “I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
    I lift my lids and all is born again.
    (I think I made you up inside my head.)”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #12
    Sylvia Plath
    “I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
    I lift my eyes and all is born again.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #13
    Sylvia Plath
    “I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #14
    Sylvia Plath
    “Is there no way out of the mind?”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #15
    Sylvia Plath
    “God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #16
    Sylvia Plath
    “If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
    You leave the same impression
    Of something beautiful, but annihilating.”
    Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition

  • #17
    Sylvia Plath
    “When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know.
    "Oh, sure you know," the photographer said.
    "She wants," said Jay Cee wittily, "to be everything.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #18
    Sylvia Plath
    “To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #19
    Sylvia Plath
    “because 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.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #20
    Sylvia Plath
    “I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #21
    Sylvia Plath
    “Dying
    Is an art, like everything else.
    I do it exceptionally well.
    I do it so it feels like hell.
    I do it so it feels real.
    I guess you could say I have a call.”
    Sylvia Plath, Ariel

  • #22
    Sylvia Plath
    “Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #23
    Sylvia Plath
    “I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time...”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #24
    Sylvia Plath
    “I felt wise and cynical as all hell.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #25
    Sylvia Plath
    “I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #26
    Sylvia Plath
    “The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #27
    Sylvia Plath
    “Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night...”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #28
    Sylvia Plath
    “Out of the ash
    I rise with my red hair
    and I eat men like air.”
    Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition

  • #29
    Sylvia Plath
    “What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #30
    Sylvia Plath
    “I told him I believed in hell, and that certain people, like me, had to live in hell before they died, to make up for missing out on it after death, since they didn't believe in life after death, and what each person believed happened to him when he died.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar



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