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What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid.
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
Life
Afraid
Going
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I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
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I must get my soul back from you I am killing my flesh without it.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.
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Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
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A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage.
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My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me.
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Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.
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O heart, such disorganization!
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Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers' beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass.
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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
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Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
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Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind it, like the death angel. It is what I was this fall, and what I never want to be again. The pouting disconsolate mouth, the flat, bored, numb, expressionless eyes: symptoms of the foul decay within.
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I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see, I swallow immediately. Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful.
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