Category Sylvia Plath

And there is no end, no end of it. I shall never grow old. New oysters Shriek in the sea and I Glitter like Fountainbleau

And so I stand, a little sightless. So I walk Away on wheels, instead of legs, they serve as well. And learn to speak with fingers, not a tongue. The body is resourceful. The body of a starfish can grow…

“Teeth like tombstones,” I said, “Do you see nothing eerie in that?” She shook her head. I wondered, had she read the book. With a shy look, she said, “I liked Esther:” I was impressed. But why had she not…

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free.”

Because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok— I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.

On a dark and cloudy day I wandered in the woods away. To Think my Thoughts alone. The snow began to softly fall. A magic mist hung over all And seeds of dreams were sown. I caught a Flake in…

I thought that I could not be hurt; I thought that I must surely be impervious to suffering— immune to pain or agony. My world was warm with April sun my thoughts were spangled green and gold; my soul filled…

The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no further.

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness…