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Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?
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
Faces
Heart
Love
Disperse
Agitate
Pale
Clouds
Pass
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
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You are a dream I hope I never meet you.
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I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.
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I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my hair down to my waist, and reaching out for my first little squirmy child and saying its name, whatever it was.
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I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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Character is fate.
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I would say everything should be able to come into a poem, but I can't put toothbrushes into a poem, I really can't!
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O heart, such disorganization!
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God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
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If there's anything I look down on, it's a man in a blue outfit.
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Now I am silent, hate Up to my neck, Thick, thick. I do not speak.
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She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
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