Just finished Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar," which I've thoroughly lived in, underlined, and dog eared over the past two weeks. Below, one of many such lived in, underlined, and dog eared passages that resonated with me.

"A bad dream.
I remembered everything.
I remembered the cadavers and Doreen and the story of the fig tree and Marco's diamond and the sailor on the Common and Doctor Gordon's wall-eyed nurse and the broken thermometers and the Negro with his two kinds of beans and the twenty pounds I gained on insulin and the rock that bulged between the sky and sea like a gray skull.
Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind of snow, should number and cover them.
But they were part of me. They were my landscape."

Sylvia Plath
"The Bell Jar"