I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Last year a friend went dark in a nervous city alone, the sea flashing against his glasses, the sea sorted out at… — 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
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at… — 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
I looked on my stomach and saw Frieda Rebecca, white as flour with the cream that covers new babies, funny little dark… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one’s ashes, the gray scraps were… — 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
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
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false… — 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
