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There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.

Sylvia Plath

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Sylvia Plath
Age: 30 †
Born: 1932
Born: October 27
Died: 1963
Died: February 11
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Victoria Lucas
Sylvia Plath Hughes
Classic
Inspiring
Friendship
Somebody
Friends
Nothing
Make
Puking
Like
Feminism

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My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
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There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.
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It never occurred to me to say no.
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Jealousy can open the blood, it can make black roses.
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Sometimes I nursed starfish alive in jam jars of seawater and watched them grow back lost arms. On this day, this awful birthday of otherness, my rival, somebody else, I flung the starfish against a stone. Let it perish.
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Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.
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I like people too much or not at all.
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Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
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Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
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How we need another soul to cling to.
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Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
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I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
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I've got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it's too late. But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.
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I knew you'd decide to be all right again.
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Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
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