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“She was, [Wilfrid Riley] recalled, "a very clever person, but you couldn't be at ease with her some way. She wasn't with you. She was up in the clouds, always studying poetry, what have you . . . You couldn't sit with her and converse with her like you can normal people." It wasn't pride, he thought, that made her this way. "Shyness came into it. She couldn't lend herself to people. She was a little bit aloof from people, and I don't think she intended to be.”
― Heather Clark, Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath

“I love you Josiah
I’m sorry I’m still broken
but I could still make you happy.
Let’s pour one out
to knowing
not hoping”
― Lana Del Rey, Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass

“The mere thought of having to enter into contact with someone else makes me nervous. A simple invitation to have dinner with a friend produces an anguish in me that’s hard to define. The idea of any social obligation whatsoever – attending a funeral, dealing with someone about an office matter, going to the station to wait for someone I know or don’t know – the very idea disturbs my thoughts for an entire day, and sometimes I even start worrying the night before, so that I sleep badly. When it takes place, the dreaded encounter is utterly insignificant, justifying none of my anxiety, but the next time is no different: I never learn to learn.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“Henry was a bit surprised that the owl was concerned about him, and he began to think about what the owl had said. He decided that he didn't want to be a fearful little prickly ball his whole life.”
― Nienke Witteveen, Het Bange Egeltje