The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it woul…

Sylvia Plath
472 citations
The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces. ✨ Sylvia Plath (2016). The Bell Jar, p.25, Hamilton Books
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