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I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.

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
Flesh
Lost
Gorgeous
Errors

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There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get.
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If I have a dry spell ... I wait and live harder, eyes, ears, and heart open, and when the productive time comes, it is that much richer.
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Winter is for women The woman still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
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The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.
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But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.
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A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.
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I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
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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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Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?
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And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness
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I am not cruel, only truthful.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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I need the reality of other people, work, to fulfill myself. Must never become a mere mother and housewife.
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…beating time along the edge of thought.
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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
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I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak.
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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
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