Very depressed today. Unable to write a thing. Menacing gods. I feel outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
My childhood landscape was not land but the end of the land - the cold, salt, running hills of the Atlantic. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Winter is for women The woman still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Cold glass, how you insert yourself Between myself and myself. I scratch like a cat. The blood that runs is dark fruit-… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
If you have no past or no future, which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you… — 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
So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the old yellow… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
We know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you… — 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
