Friday, July 29, 2011

Weekly Quotes Part 30

Journals of Sylvia Plath

We all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists. (67)

I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.  I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am.  (70)

I love the above, which sounds so perfectly adolescent.  Not that I am suggesting it is immature but there is that insecurity with which most of us are familiar, that dread of being loved, unlovable, and incapable of being loving and all the while unable to say "This is who I am."  

. . . there is no i because i am what other people interpret me as being and am nothing if there were no people. (Like the sound of the hack-neyed tree falling axed by old saws in the proverbial forest).  (73-74)

I want to love somebody because I want to be loved.  (80)

[L]et me never go blind, or get shut off from the agony of learning, the horrible pain of trying to understand.  (78)

[E]verything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.  (85)

I felt mystically that if I read Woolf, read Lawrence (these two, why? their vision, so different, is so like mine) I can be itched and kindled to a great work:  burgeoning, fat with the texture and substance of life: This is my call, my work. (196)

This summer I will study under Henry James and George Eliot for social surface, decorum. . .  . (211)

As I am reading her journals, I find myself making a list of the books she mentions, the authors she was reading, as if I were building a Plath Syllabus.

[T]eaching is a smiling public-service vampire that drinks blood and brain without a thank you.  (222)

This just made me laugh.  A lot of what I've read has made me chuckle, like the quote above from page 67.  

War Talk

I’m sorry if my thoughts are stray and disconnected, not always worthy.  Often ridiculous.   (3)

Goodness knows this is how I feel about any attempt I make to discuss politics.  Stray.  Disconnected.  Sometimes unworthy.  Almost always ridiculous.

The threshold of horror has been ratcheted up so high that nothing short of genocide or the prospect of nuclear war merits mention.  (4)

The last question every visiting journalist always asks me is:  Are you writing another book?  That question mocks me.  Another book?  Right now?  This talk of nuclear war displays such contempt for music, art, literature, and everything else that defines civilization.  So what kind of book should I write?  (7)

This quote reminds me of someone I know who has the same sort of societal empathy Roy is communicating. And I think all writers ask "What kind of book should I write?"  What kind of poem?  What kind of story?  What kind of blog post?  What kind of essay?  What words of wisdom or insight or truth am I going to offer today?

In the twenty-first century the connection between religious fundamentalism, nuclear nationalism, and the pauperization of whole populations because of corporate globalization is becoming impossible to ignore.  (14)

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