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Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.

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
Rose
Love
Cave
Roses
Caves
Hung

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If there's anything I look down on, it's a man in a blue outfit.
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God has to remind us this isn't heaven by a long shot, so he increases the radios and lethal flies.
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If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.
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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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I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
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I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is an American way of talk, I'm an old-fashioned American. That's probably one of the reasons why I'm in England now and why I'll always stay in England.
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I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh, yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down.
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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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The box is only temporary.
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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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They would grow old. They would forget me.
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Dancing is the normal prelude to intercourse.
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I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.
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