“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
Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream. A… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“All, all, becomes profitable. Education is of the most satisfying and available nature. I am at Smith! Which two years ago was… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I? I walk alone; The midnight street Spins itself from under my feet; My eyes shut These dreaming houses all snuff out;… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“At the essential landscape stare, stare Till your eyes foist a vision dazzling on the wind: Whatever lost ghosts flare, Damned, howling… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own. I pick it up, exile that I am,… — 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
“I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Dream by dream I am educating myself to become that rare character, rarer, in truth, than any member of the Psychoanalytic Institute,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“brave love, dream not of staunching such strict flame, but come, lean to my wound; burn on, burn on.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“To the person in The Bell Jar, black and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
... you looked around and saw everybody either married or busy and happy and thinking and being creative, and you felt scared,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“We'll act as if all this were a bad dream." A bad dream. To the person in the bell jar, blank and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Mother believed that I should have an enormous amount of sleep, and so I was never really tired when I went to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What I cannot forgive is dishonesty - and no matter what, or how hard, I would rather know the truth of which… — 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
