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Nancy, an attractive titian blond, grinned up at her friend.
“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride … and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well … maybe chalk it off to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten. It’s all in Kesey’s Bible.… The Far Side of Reality.”
― Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
― Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
“after my first sinus cold last week, I have become acquainted at one fell swoop with the byways of socialized medecine. the hard way. they persuaded me to try our college “hospital” here, and I went obediently, thinking with relief of the smith college routine of penicillin and cocaine. here it was aspirin therapy, total neglect, and pasty white meals (potato, fish, bread, custard and dough). when I asked for kleenex, the nurse offered to tear up an old sheet; probably a winding sheet.”
― The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1: 1940-1956 – The Comprehensive Collection of an Influential Poet's Intimate Correspondence
― The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1: 1940-1956 – The Comprehensive Collection of an Influential Poet's Intimate Correspondence
“He’s the October Boy . . . the reaper that grows in the field, the merciless trick with a heart made of treats, the butchering nightmare with the hacksaw face . . . and he’s gonna getcha! That’s what they always told you . . . he’s gonna getcha so you know you’ve been got!!!!!”
― Dark Harvest
― Dark Harvest
“Dad, that’s wonderful!” Nancy exclaimed. “I hope we hear something soon.” Her father chuckled. “When you were a little girl, Nancy, you were always eager to have things happen. I used to say to you, ‘Hold your horses!’ Now I’m saying it again. Don’t get your hopes up too high.” Nancy laughed. “Spoken like a lawyer,” she teased, and then said good-by.”
― Nancy's Mysterious Letter
― Nancy's Mysterious Letter
“March 1:47 Thursday It is somehow march and very late, and outside a warm large wind is blowing so that the trees and clouds are torn and the stars are scudding. I have been gliding on that wind since noon, and coming back tonight, with the gas fire wailing like the voice of a phoenix, and having read Verlaine and his lines cursing me, and having just come newly from Cocteau’s films “La Belle et La Běte” and “Orphée” can you see how I must stop writing letters to a dead man and put one on paper which you may tear or read or feel sorry for.”
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
― The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
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