I feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATHI feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATHThe truth comes to me. The truth loves me.
SYLVIA PLATHI felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.
SYLVIA PLATHIt is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.
SYLVIA PLATHThere is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
SYLVIA PLATHEternity bores me, I never wanted it.
SYLVIA PLATHPlease, I want so badly for the good things to happen.
SYLVIA PLATHI have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
SYLVIA PLATHI find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
SYLVIA PLATHAloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
SYLVIA PLATHSometimes I feel like I’m not solid. I’m hollow. There’s nothing behind my eyes. I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.
SYLVIA PLATHThe sheets grow heavy as a lecher’s kiss.
SYLVIA PLATHI woke to the sound of rain.
SYLVIA PLATHIt is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
SYLVIA PLATHLet me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
SYLVIA PLATHDon’t let the wicked city get you down.
SYLVIA PLATH