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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
Inspiring
Friendship
Somebody
Friends
Nothing
Make
Puking
Like
Feminism
Classic

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I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.
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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
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I've eaten a bag of Green apples. Boarded the train, there's no getting off
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I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise with these cries from the heart that are informed by nothing except a needle or a knife, or whatever it is.
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If you pluck out my heart To find what makes it move, You’ll halt the clock That syncopates our love.
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A skeptic, I would ask for consistency first of all.
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
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I do not know who I am tonight.
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Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?
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I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.
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Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
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Winter is for women The woman still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline, you've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space that you've just got to turn away all the peripherals.
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I feel terribly vulnerable and 'not-myself' when I'm not writing.
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Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
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My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.
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I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
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God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody I have nothing to do with explosions.
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See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
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