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Sylvia Plath Quote - The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

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Abstract Concrete Kill One Liner Save

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
SYLVIA PLATH

Hurt Infinite Melt Precious Sad
The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted and spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
SYLVIA PLATH

Fear Feminism Future Live Past Present Regret Rich Spoil
Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
SYLVIA PLATH

Feminism Goodness Live Love Sentence
I hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous.
SYLVIA PLATH

Hate Money Myself Nervous People
Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
SYLVIA PLATH

Beauty Coincidence Combination Fairy Tale Hurt Life Shock Togetherness
I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
SYLVIA PLATH

Blood Death Violence
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
SYLVIA PLATH

Children Perfection Terrible
Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
SYLVIA PLATH

Cheer Growth Life Positive Soul Spring
Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
SYLVIA PLATH

Life One Liner Positive Possible
I woke to the sound of rain.
SYLVIA PLATH

Rain Sound Wake Up
I talk to God but the sky is empty.
SYLVIA PLATH

Doubt Empty Faith God One Liner Sky Talk
Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
SYLVIA PLATH

Cry Lie Love Shadow
I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.
SYLVIA PLATH

Capable Desperate Love Obvious Want
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
SYLVIA PLATH

Always Christmas Disappointment Feeling
Tomorrow is another day toward death.
SYLVIA PLATH

Death Future
There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
SYLVIA PLATH

Alone Certain Empty Strange Street Unique Walk

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