The Bell Jar
Sylvia PlathThe Bell Jar Gönderileri
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The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way.
I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks..
... my heartbeat boomed like a dull motor in my ears.
I am, I am, I am.
I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
I am, I am, I am.
Sayfa 152Kitabı okudu
Uncertainty of the future by Sylvia Plath
Yaşamımın yıllarım bir yol boyunca aralıklı olarak duran, birbirine tellerle bağlı, telefon direkleri gibi görüyordum. Bir, iki, üç... on dokuz telefon direği sayabiliyordum. Ama sonra teller boşlukta sallanıyor ve ne kadar çabalarsam çabalayayım, on dokuzuncudan sonra bir tek direk bile göremiyordum.
I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles, threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three ... nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as I would, I couldn't see a single pole beyond the nineteenth.
That one quote obviously :)
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
Sayfa 80Kitabı okudu
14 Ocak 1963
Sırça fanusun içindeki boş ve ölü bir bebek gibi duran kişi için dünyanın kendisi kötü bir rüyadır.
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The Bell Jar
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Kendimi bu incir ağacının kasıklarında otururken, incirlerden hangisini seçeceğime karar veremediğim için açlıktan ölürken gördüm.
Her birini istiyordum ama birini seçmek geri kalanını kaybetmek anlamına geliyordu ve ben orada karar veremeden otururken incirler buruşmaya ve kararmaya başladı ve birer birer yere düştüler.
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Kendimi fena halde yetersiz hissettim. Sorun şu ki, başından beri yetersizdim, sadece bunu düşünmemiştim.
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Ayrıca insanların, kötü hissettiğini bildiklerinde neşeyle nasılsın diye sorup "iyi" demeni beklemelerinden de nefret ediyorum.
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Ağlayacağım için fotoğrafımın çekilmesini istemedim. Neden ağlayacağımı bilmiyordum ama birisi benimle konuşursa ya da bana çok yakından bakarsa gözlerimden yaşlar akacağını, boğazımdan hıçkırıkların fırlayacağını ve benim için ağlayacağımı biliyordum.
Dengesiz ve fazla dolu bir bardaktaki su gibi gözyaşlarımın içimde dolup taştığını hissedebiliyordum.
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Do you know what a poem is, Esther?’ ‘No, what?’ I would say. ‘A piece of dust.’ Then just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, ‘So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you're curing. They're dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.’
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Sayfa 40