Wednesday, October 27, 2004


Isn't that just the way with poets?

From today's Writer's Almanac:
At the end of October, during which she had finished thirty new poems, she wrote to her mother, "I am writing the best poems of my life; they will make my name." But when Plath sent her new poems out for publication, but the editors of various magazines rejected them as too strange and disturbing.


On the morning of February 11, she committed suicide.

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