Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.
SYLVIA PLATHLove life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.
SYLVIA PLATHTomorrow is another day toward death.
SYLVIA PLATHI am myself. That is not enough.
SYLVIA PLATHI want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.
SYLVIA PLATHI smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists.
SYLVIA PLATHI feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATHI hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous.
SYLVIA PLATHI find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
SYLVIA PLATHPeople or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
SYLVIA PLATHI don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
SYLVIA PLATHI am not cruel, only truthful.
SYLVIA PLATHOnly I wasn’t steering anything, not even myself.
SYLVIA PLATHI find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
SYLVIA PLATHThere is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
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 PLATHAs a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.
SYLVIA PLATH