"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."
"Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am a victim of it then, not a master."
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Source: Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.516, Anchor
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