"Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand."
"But when I took up my pen, my hand made big, jerky letters like those of a child, and the lines sloped down the page from left to right horizontally, as if they were loops of string lying on the paper, and someone had come along and blown them askew."
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Source: Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.62, Anchor
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