“And this is how it stiffens, my vision of that seaside childhood. My father died, we moved inland. Whereon those nine first… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“To feel the tender skin of sensitive child-fingers thicken; to feel the sex organs develop and call loudly to the flesh; to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit's cry may be wilder But it has no soul. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Nick and the Candlestick I am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactites Drip and thicken, tears The earthen womb Exudes… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
But when I took up my pen, my hand made big, jerky letters like those of a child, and the lines sloped… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think the coming of spring, the stars overhead, the first snowfall and so on are gifts for a child, a young… — 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
Ironically, Henry James' biography comforts me & I long to make known to him his posthumous reputation he wrote, in pain, gave… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, The dew that flies Suicidal, at one with the drive… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I also remembered Buddy Willard saying in a sinister, knowing way that after I had children I would feel differently, I wouldn't… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Do I like to write? Why? About what? Will I give up and say, "Living and feeding a man's insatiable guts and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I had lost all perspective; I was wandering in a desperate purgatory (with a gray man in a gray boat in a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Lord, thy children are jaded, and their ears go flat with sound. Marveling in the thunder rumbling of thy voice no longer… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“You are twenty. You are not dead, although you were dead. The girl who died. And was resurrected. Children. Witches. Magic. Symbols.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter - - - for always there will be greater and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Now and then, when I grow nostalgic about my ocean childhood - the wauling of gulls and the smell of salt, somebody… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I believe that there are people who think as I do, who have thought as I do, who will think as I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I felt proud that the baby's first real adventure should be as a protest against the insanity of world annihilation. Already a… — 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 Image
I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
... 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
