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August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

Sylvia Plath

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Sylvia Plath
Age: 30 †
Born: 1932
Born: October 27
Died: 1963
Died: February 11
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Victoria Lucas
Sylvia Plath Hughes
Best
Summertime
Time
August
Odd
Rain
Summer
Gone
Born
Fall
Uneven

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I am what I feel and think and do.
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They would grow old. They would forget me.
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That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
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Talking about my fears to others feeds it.
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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
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I do not fear it: I have been there.
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The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.
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we walk the plank with strangers.
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Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.
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My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
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I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mini.
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I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody I have nothing to do with explosions.
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