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
I want to force myself again and again to leave the warmth and security of static situations and move into the world… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the old yellow… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I can't deceive myself out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that… — 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
A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion; an insight like the flight of birds. — 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
...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
I feel, am mad as any writer must in one way be; why not make it real? I am too close to… — 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
