But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good. - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

"How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into."

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited."

"So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough."

"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between."

"Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those."