I talk to God but the sky is empty. - Sylvia Plath

"The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower."

"I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?"

"I’ll never speak to God again."

"Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted."

"What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination."