Author:  Sylvia Plath
Viewed: 42 - Published at: a year ago

I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own. I pick it up, exile that I am, like the purple 'lucky stones' I used to collect with a white ring all the way round, or the shell of a blue mussel with its rainbowy angel's fingernail interior; and in one wash of memory the colors deepen and gleam, the early world draws breath.

( Sylvia Plath )
[ Johnny Panic and the Bible of ]
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