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As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin I am I. That stone is a stone. My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over.

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
Saws
Fusion
Wall
Detachment
Stars
Emptiness
Felt
Stone
Beautiful
Skin
Soberly
Everything
Skins
Coldly
Things
Stones
Numbness
World
Star
Separateness

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I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody I have nothing to do with explosions.
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In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp green soap navigates the tidal slosh of seas breaking on legendary beaches in faith we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
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I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.
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Talking about my fears to others feeds it.
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A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
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I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is an American way of talk, I'm an old-fashioned American. That's probably one of the reasons why I'm in England now and why I'll always stay in England.
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God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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I do not fear it: I have been there.
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we walk the plank with strangers.
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
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…beating time along the edge of thought.
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I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around with me, like the relic of a dead lover, till they wore off of their own accord.
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