Aimie McAllester

“There is only continual motion. If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad. There is so much, and I am torn in different directions, pulled thin, taut against horizons too distant for me to reach. Swift, ceaseless pace. Will I never rest in sunlight again - slow, languid & golden with peace?”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“I can't deceive myself out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that character is fate, nothing is real, past or future, when you are alone in your room with the clock ticking loudly into the false cheerful brilliance of the electric light. And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide. But the cold reasoning mass of gray entrail in my cranium which parrots "I think, therefore I am," whispers that there is always the turning, the upgrade, the new slant. And so I wait. What avail are good looks? To grab temporary security? What avail are brains? Merely to say "I have seen; I have comprehended?”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“I feel like a very efficient tool or weapon, used and in demand from moment to moment...”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar