Quote

Ash, ash —- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

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
Hair
Cake
Stir
Nothing
Rings
Beware
Men
Red
Bone
Like
Bones
Soap
Rise
Filling
Flesh
Ashes
Herr
Air
Wedding
Lucifer
Gold
Ring
Poke

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With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous and alarmingly timeless love for you which will always be.
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As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
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I am what I feel and think and do.
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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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And you grit your teeth, despising yourself for your tremulous sensitivity, and wondering how human beings can suffer their individualities to be mercilessly crushed under a machinelike dictatorship, be it of industry, state or organization, all their lives long.
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I think I may well be a Jew.
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Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one’s ashes, the gray scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York.
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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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I talk to God but the sky is empty.
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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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What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
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But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it.
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