Quotes from one of my favorite books, Silvia Plath's The Bell Jar, that hit me rather hard and inspired this little doodle, a few years back."The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence."
"Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air."
"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream"
"How did I know that someday - at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere - the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn't descend again?"
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