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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.
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
Lying
Peacefulness
Free
Utterly
Idea
Feminism
Didn
Classic
Hands
Flowers
Ideas
Turned
Wanted
Empty
Flower
Daze
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I felt wise and cynical as all hell.
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Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.
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You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?
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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 think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!
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Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled “enemy?
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The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.
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In spite of everything, I still have my good old sense of humor.
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I like people, but to learn about one individual always appeals to me more than anything.
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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
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We know a thing by its opposite corollary hot by having experienced cold good by having decided what is bad love by hate.
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Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
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If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.
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...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
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