"I knew something was wrong with me that summer, because all I could think about was the Rosenburgs and how stupid I'd been to buy all those uncomfortable, expensive clothes, hanging limp as fish in my closet, and how all the little successes I'd trotted up so happily at college fizzled to nothing outside the slick marble and plate-glass fronts along Madison Avenue."

--The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath