To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
A baby! I hated babies. I, who for two and a half years had been the center of a tender universe, felt… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
At this rate, I'd be lucky if I wrote a page a day. Then I knew what the problem was. I needed… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
My best friends when I was young were always doctors. I used to dress up in a white gauze helmet and go… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Please let him come, and give me the resilience & guts to make him respect me, be interested, and not to throw… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
... These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. ... --Lady Lazarus — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
Sure, I’m dramatic and sloppily semi-cynical and semi-sentimental. But, in leisure years I could grow and choose my way. Now I am living on… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I couldn't stand the idea of a woman having to have a single pure life and a man being able to have a double… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The city had faded my tan, though. I looked yellow as a Chinaman. Ordinarily, I would have been nervous about my dress and my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond" Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer, To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The most saddening thing is to admit that I am not in love. I can only love (if that means self denial - or… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
