Quote

In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp green soap navigates the tidal slosh of seas breaking on legendary beaches in faith 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.

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
Makes
Arms
Till
Boards
Navigate
Tidal
Two
Minutes
Minute
Islands
Seas
Tubs
Real
Hair
Rise
Breaking
Soap
Hairs
Like
Particular
Legs
Ships
Fabulous
Beaches
Shall
Sacred
Knees
Sail
Iceberg
Stars
Sea
Beach
Board
Wildly
Kelp
Faith
Green
Brown
Ship
Legendary
Icebergs
Death
Among
Mad
Imagined
Fringe
Shatters

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Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
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A man's world is different from a woman's world and a man's emotions are different from a woman's emotions and only marriage can bring the two different sets of emotions together properly.
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I am what I feel and think and do.
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I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.
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I knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big card of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.
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The box is only temporary.
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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart - It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge, For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
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Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
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…I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me.
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You smile. No, it is not fatal.
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I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
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It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.
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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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I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.
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I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.
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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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Is there no way out of the mind?
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