The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

by Sylvia Plath

I am gone quite mad with the knowledge of accepting the overwhelming number of things I can never know, places I can never go, and people I can never be.)

he wants very hard what I want very hard: (and I am no longer the crackpot idealist who will eat red beans in a tenement all her life): I like theater, books, concerts, paintings, travel – all of which cost more than intangible dreams can buy. I like brilliance intellectually: he has that. and he likes the sun.

yet he appreciates and understands the most idealistic poetry – and is uniquely sensitive to literary beauty. (I have decided I cannot marry a writer or an artist – after gordon, I see how dangerous the conflict of egos would be – especially if the wife got all the acceptances!)

for him I would enjoy, I think, home-making and pleasing his taste in food – while continuing to serve as a life force – physically and mentally stimulating and sustaining.