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I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
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
Thirty
Stubbornly
Name
Cargo
Names
Slip
Year
Slips
Things
Address
Hanging
Addresses
Boat
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Is there no way out of the mind?
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I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for-women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New York, for near unto an hour, and I felt myself growing pure again. I don't believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that, but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water.
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I am myself. That is not enough.
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Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.
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Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?
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I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions.
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What I cannot forgive is dishonesty - and no matter what, or how hard, I would rather know the truth of which I today had such a clear & devastating vision from his mouth than hear foul evasions, blurrings and rattiness.
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The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
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But I am I now and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of 'I' that I can hardly bear to think of it. I: how firm a letter how reassuring the three strokes: one vertical, proud and assertive, and then the two short horizontal lines in quick, smug succession. The pen scratching on the paper…I…I…I…I…I…I.
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I collect men with interesting names.
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It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
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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 have stitched life into me like a rare organ
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Then I thought, No, I broke it myself. I broke it on purpose to pay myself back for being such a heel.
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If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad.
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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.
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