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Born in October 27, 1932 / Died in February 11, 1963 / United States / English

Quotes by Sylvia Plath

He tells me how sweet The babies look in their hospital Icebox,
His hair long and plausive. Bastard Masturbating a glitter, He wants to be loved.
Black and stiff, but not a bad fit. Will you marry it?
Dying Is an art, like everything else....
First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wear...
What did my hands do before they held you?
God's lioness, How one we grow, Pivot of heels and knees!—
Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.
I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.
The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.
I talk to God but the sky is empty.
Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not merely as feeling, not merely as thinking, but as managing a complex, vital interweaving of both.
There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Widow. The word consumes itself.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.