Danielle

“The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly.
I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next bad suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.
It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash it again the next.
It made me tired just to think of it.
I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“I put my face to the window so nobody would see, if I tore up. Was this me now, for life? Taking up space where people wished I wasn’t? Once on a time I was something, and then I turned, like sour milk. The dead junkie’s kid. A rotten little piece of American pie that everybody wishes could just be, you know. Removed.”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead

“Chiapas, he says, is 'a cemetary with no crosses, where people die without even getting a prayer.”
― Sonia Nazario, Enrique's Journey

“There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them. Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and say: 'I'll go take a hot bath...' I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar