• Sylvia Plath

    It's painful to want to engage and not be able to. These chains of solitude bind me. The key could not be deeper in my pocket. Reach. Reach.

  • Sylvia Plath

    Being around certain ppl is like wearing velvet in August. You're left feeling uncomfortable, hot & dizzied.

  • Sylvia Plath

    When is it real? When you can smell it? Taste it? Feel it? See it? Hear it? But air is real...makes you wonder about other things.

  • Sylvia Plath

    A little birdie told me once not to listen to little birdies...

  • Sylvia Plath

    Remember, remember,this is now, & now, & now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.

  • Sylvia Plath

    I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental & physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.

  • Sylvia Plath

    I am a black stain on a crisp white sheet. Freshly laundered and hanging in the warm sun. Out blasted spot and be pure once more.

  • Sylvia Plath

    An unhinged soul parallels the instinctive wild animal.

  • Sylvia Plath

    “You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”

  • Sylvia Plath

    "How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought."

  • Sylvia Plath

    “Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”

  • Sylvia Plath

    Why would one care whom another loves and then marries? Jealousy is so unbecoming.

  • Sylvia Plath

    Sun is shining today. Radiant glow envelops all that is spring. Even the daffodils appear to have been dipped in liquid gold.

  • Sylvia Plath

    Pressing my face against the cool glass window pane I can almost smell the darkness falling. A lovely smell of deep purple orchids & mist.

  • Sylvia Plath

    Abandoned in my own mind are the thoughts I long to express. Words. Phrases. Imprisoned, because they'd fall on deafend ears.

  • Sylvia Plath

    Questions...yearning to learn, or passive-aggressively pestering

  • Sylvia Plath

    Twisted fingers are these branches calling me up to their bosom as if I were still a young girl. The greyish moaning sky shall be my blanket

  • Sylvia Plath

    "Is there no way out of the mind?"

  • Sylvia Plath

    "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again."

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