Sylvia Plath

A ring of gold with the sun in it? Lies. Lies and a grief.

How we need another soul to cling to.

I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.

Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.

If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.