“I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.”
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.”
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“For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.”
― Carmilla
― Carmilla
el’s 2025 Year in Books
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