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Sylvia Plath

God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they… Continue reading Sylvia Plath

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Canadian Culture · Canadian Literature · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Online Magazine · Online Review · Passage · Periodical · Poetry

Margaret Atwood

Everything once had a soul, even this clam, this pebble. Each had a secret name. Everything listened. Everything was real, but didn’t always love you. You needed to take care. — Margaret Atwood, from “Because We Love Bare Hills and Stunted Trees,” Poetry Ireland Review Issue 116

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