I think it’s even worse when you’re in a situation where the object of your desire is being nice to you and liking you, but that’s not enough, they’ve got to hate you or love you; anything in between is really upsetting and Arthur finds that very, very difficult. And

There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.

Sorrows do not last forever when we are journeying towards the thing we have always wanted.

Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing &amp; love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience.

Written By Sylvia Plath

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