I dreamed about you continually last night, in all kinds of places and confusions. We shall meet next week. A week since we met! I wish this was that or was next week, Sylvia. I wish this year were over and our wedding in America were over and I were just laying you down on the bed. All all all all all love Your Ted.
- Ted Hughes to Sylvia Plath, 18 October 1956
[I know lots of people think he was pure evil, but I think he's marvellous.]
2 comments:
And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
You know, he did love her at one time.
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