The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt) — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I guess they call it suicide, but I'm to full to swallow my pride I can't stand losing you The Police Dying… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The journey over the bridge had unnerved me. The river water passed me by like an untouched drink. I suspected that even… — 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
One night she hid the pink cotton scarf from her raincoat in the pillowcase when the nurse came around to lock up… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through… — 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
I can't deceive myself out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I brought the newspaper close up to my eyes to get a better view of George Pollucci's face, spotlighted like a three-quarter… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“LADY LAZARUS I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it-- A sort of walking miracle, my skin… — 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
