Quote from Sylvia Plath, August 1950

I am drawn to this quote over and over again. For some strange reason, it resonates so deeply with me, perhaps because of the intellectual insight (for someone aged 18), for what it foreshadows (suicide, of course), and for what it seems to contrast with later in her life. In any case, here is that passage, no. 7, from pg. 9 of The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962, as edited by Karen V. Kukl:

"With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. The second is life. And when it is gone, it is dead. But you can't start over with a new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand...hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die."