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"In all honesty, I’m about another 50 pages from giving this book up entirely. I was excited to read it, hoping for actionable advice or novel insight, and have been overwhelmingly let down so far. Ironically, this book contains an overload of information that is often barely relevant, redundant and sometimes even a bit disorganized." — Feb 02, 2024 08:17AM
"In all honesty, I’m about another 50 pages from giving this book up entirely. I was excited to read it, hoping for actionable advice or novel insight, and have been overwhelmingly let down so far. Ironically, this book contains an overload of information that is often barely relevant, redundant and sometimes even a bit disorganized." — Feb 02, 2024 08:17AM
“Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.”
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must be a little in love with death!”
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“There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.”
― The Bell Jar
― The Bell Jar
“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.”
― The Bell Jar
― The Bell Jar
“How can you be so many women to so many strange people, oh you strange girl?”
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Alexis’s 2025 Year in Books
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