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It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
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
Majors
Love
Major
Lasts
Last
Suicidal
Words
Hospital
Hospitals
Mother
Attempt
Firsts
Suicide
First
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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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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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I felt wise and cynical as all hell.
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I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.
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There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get.
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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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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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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 hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted & spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
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I could never be a complete scholar or a complete housewife ora completewriter: Imustcombinea little of all, and thereby be imperfect in all.
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I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
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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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... stop trying to get me to write about 'decent courageous people' -- read the Ladies' Home Journal for those! ... I believe in going through and facing the worst, not hiding from it.
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For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
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I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
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What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
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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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The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me Cruelly, being barren. Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
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