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Sylvia Plath Quote - There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.

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

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Alone Certain Empty Strange Street Unique Walk

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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take it back. It’s gone forever.
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The constant struggle in mature life, I think, is to accept the necessity of tragedy and conflict, and not to try to escape to some falsely simple solution which does not include these more somber complexities.
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I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
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The abstract kills, the concrete saves.
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I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life.
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Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
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Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
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Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
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I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.
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Only I wasn’t steering anything, not even myself.
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I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life.
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I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
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If the body is a temple, then tattoos are its stained glass windows.
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I am not cruel, only truthful.
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Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.
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