I need a lullaby A kiss good night Angel sweet love of my life I need this I’m the slow dying flower In the frost killing hour Sweet turning sour and untouchable Do you remember the way that you touched me before All the trembling sweetness I loved and adored Your face saying promised whispered like prayers I don’t need them
I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
– Sylvia Plath
Justine: The earth is evil. We don’t need to grieve for it.
Claire: What?
Justine: Nobody will miss it.
Claire: But where would Leo grow?
Justine: All I know is, life on earth is evil.
Claire: Then maybe life somewhere else.
Justine: But there isn’t.
Claire: How do you know?
Justine: Because I know things.
Claire: Oh yes, you always imagined you did.
Justine: I know we’re alone.
Claire: I don’t think you know that at all.
Justine: 678. The bean lottery. Nobody guessed the amount of beans in the bottle.
Claire: No, that’s right.
Justine: But I know. 678.
Claire: Well, perhaps. But what does that prove?
Justine: That I know things. And when I say we’re alone, we’re alone. Life is only on earth, and not for long.
