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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.

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
Like
Anybody
Much

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You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.
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There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.
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I am still so naïve I know pretty much what I like and dislike but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?
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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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I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love.
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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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How we need another soul to cling to.
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I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.
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The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.
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There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.
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I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
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Not being perfect hurts.
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I am myself. That is not enough.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.
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It never occurred to me to say no.
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A skeptic, I would ask for consistency first of all.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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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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What did my arms do before they held you?
Sylvia Plath