At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“The consequences of love affairs would stop me from my independent freedom of creative activity, and I don't intend to be stopped.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at… — 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
We know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Strange, when one thinks of all the other boys, infinite experimental kisses, test tube infatuations, crushes, pseudo-loves. All through this physical separation,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I love the people,' I said. 'I have room in me for love, and for ever so many little lives. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What did my fingers do before they held him? What did my heart do, with its love? — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Mirror I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Believe in some beneficent force beyond your own limited self. God, god, god: where are you? I want you, need you: the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or seen anybody die?” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“O love, how did you get here? --from "Nick and the Candlestick", written 29 October 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life. — 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
“Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“We are born adventurers, and the love of adventures never leaves us till we are very old; old, timid men, in whose… — 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
