“I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“A time of darkness, despair, disillusion-so black only the inferno of the human mind can be-symbolic death, and numb shock-then the painful… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I told him I believed in hell, and that certain people, like me, had to live in hell before they died, to… — 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
“I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.... If I sit still and don't do anything, the world… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
So much working, reading, thinking, living to do. A lifetime is not long enough. Nor youth to old age long enough. Immortality… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“...love knows not of death nor calculus above the simple sum of heart plus heart.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I had hoped to make her strong and healthy, and now she may be too weak herself after this slow death, like… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“There are times when a feeling of expectancy comes to me, as if something is there, beneath the surface of my understanding,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, peephole… — 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
“we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and… — 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
