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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.

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
Reflection
Window
Exist
Glossed
Sure
Stared
Moment
Windows
Moments
Shop
Make
Continued
Shops

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If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
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You are a dream I hope I never meet you.
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Not being perfect hurts.
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
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I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.
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Talking about my fears to others feeds it.
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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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Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
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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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If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
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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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I have the one person I could ever love in this world. Now I must work to be a person worthy of that.
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If every soldier refused to take arms ... there would be no wars but no one has the courage to be the first to live according to Christ and Socrates, because in a world of opportunists they would be martyred.
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It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it.
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I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
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Sunday-the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.
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Sometimes I nursed starfish alive in jam jars of seawater and watched them grow back lost arms. On this day, this awful birthday of otherness, my rival, somebody else, I flung the starfish against a stone. Let it perish.
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It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
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Ash, ash —- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
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