Sunday, February 17, 2008

Sylvia Plath

I picked up the Sylvia Plath Journals today at Barnes and Noble. I've been facinated by her life as much as her writing for sometime now and thought that I would share this passage as I think that it is just beautiful in a hidden, methaphoric sort of way. She writes about her own life in the same fashion as she wrote about the lives of the characters in her stories.
Eastham, Cape Cod

July 15, 1957. The virginal page, white. The first broken into and sent packing. All in dreams, the promises wait till I can write again, and then the painful, botched rape of the first page. Nothing said. A warm up. A detective. It is almost noon, and through the short spined green pines the sky is a luminous overhung grey. Some bastard's radio jazzs out of the trees like the green-eyed stinging flies. God has to remind me this isn't heaven by a long shot. So he increases the radios and the lethel flies.


Anonymous said...

Nice, very nice. I know how it feels to be drawn to a writer from the past. Mine, Mary Austin, her most famous work, Land of Little Rain. We share the same last name too. I love it. Thanks for sharing!


jewelstreet said...

Beautiful quote! Your blog is just lovely looking.

Anonymous said...

One of my favourite poets! Have you read The Bell Jar? Also her stories: Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams. Haven't read them for a long time, but powerful stuff! Thanks for visiting my blog too.

Shannon said...

Great quote to share. It conveys so much in such a little space.