Literature

I saw they wouldn’t even let me in through the door, let alone me a large scholarship like the one I had at my own college. The bell jar, Sylvia Plath

decided to junk the whole honors program and become an ordinary English major. I went to look up the requirements of an ordinary English major at my college. There were lots of requirements, and I didn't have half of them. One of the requirements was a course in the eighteenth century. I hated the very idea of the eighteenth century, with all those smug men writing tight little couplets and being so dead keen on reason. So I'd skipped it. They let you do that in honors, you were much freer. I had been so free I'd spent most of my time on Dylan Thomas. A friend of mine, also in honors, had managed never to read a word of Shakespeare; but she was a real expert on the Four Quarters. The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

At any rate, I’d be lucky if I wrote a page a day. Then I knew what the trouble was. I needed experience. How could I write about life without when I’d never had a love affair or a baby or even seen anybody die? The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

فعلا استراحت کن، تازه امتحان‌هات تموم شده، وقتی می‌رسم و خونه و کتابهایی که شب قبل آماده کردم برسم خونه بخونم (:

آخرین روز ترم ۴ و آفتاب داغ تابستون