I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. — 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
To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and… — 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
There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
How can you be so many women to so many strange people, oh you strange girl? — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people,… — 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
