"What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination. . . . If I sit still and don't do anything, the world goes on beating like a slack drum, without meaning. We must be moving, working,... This description may be from another edition of this product.
Sixty-five years ago today, Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes met at a party in Cambridge. Their connection was immediate, powerful, and violent—a portent of their future together. Almost exactly seven years later Plath would die by suicide.