Sylvia Plath

The Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath, Harper Perennial Modern Classics

Najla

كيف سأعرف أن الناقوس الزجاجي سيهبط ذات يوم— في الكلية، في اوروبا، في مكان ما، في اي مكان بتشوهاته الخانقة ثانيةً؟

This is how it feels like to have self-awareness and trust issues at the same time.

hamina

I love this. Don't be an average person, learn languages and understand other people's shoes. It also reminds me of George Harrington's (The Beatles) 'Run of the Mill' song. 

Everyone has a choice, when to or not to raise voices. It's you that decides which way you will turn while feeling that our love's not your concern--- It's you that decides.  

You need to offer something more than the run-of-the-mill person. You better learn some languages.

Honestly, physics feels more like a math branch anyway. Science is cool and all but math is lowkey just guys betting on numbers like they’re playing poker to see who’s right and called it theoretical physics for their ego's sake. (I just suck)

The day I went to physics class it was death. 

Average college class belike except it's not about physics. Esther is just like me but it's hard to be proud about your success when you can see them struggling. 

No. It can't be too hard, because one girl got a straight A's.

It's like losing your control and your money at the same time. 

I hate handling over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous. 

It's like seeing BS and BA people arguing. At the end of the day, we're all dust. If we, all living things and non-living things, are going to burn or die--- we should at least, shine bright and leave a scar. 

So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you're curing. They're just dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together. 

But at the same time, they can still disappoint you by doing nothing while expecting nothing.

If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed. 

Exactly. It's hard to muster the drive to work hard when you know your mind is just raw material for someone else to exploit.

The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way. I wanted to dictate my own thrilling letters.

That’s pretty much my inner monologue lately. 

It’s so difficult to narrow it down to just one path when there is so much beauty scattered across the world that you want to experience, and you refuse to stay in just one box. Life is just too short, and there are a million skills to learn, a million places to see.

Choosing one direction feels like seeing death to all the others, mourning the lives you didn't live before they even had a chance. And the fear of getting it wrong? It’s just... exhausting. So you coast. You take your time. Finishing at 8 to 9? Please. Tell me what the actual, 'perfect time' is supposed to be (Champagne coast by Blood Orange is just playing on loop)

If I'm being honest with myself, I just hope whatever I choose eventually brings me right back home to the things I truly love. 

I want to believe we don't have to watch all those beautiful figs drop and spoil on the branch, that if we're clever enough, and a little bit patient, we can actually taste them all, one by one in this lifetime. 

I saw the life branching out before me like a 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, 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 those figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. 

The Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath, Harper Perennial Modern Classics quotes

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