Kiss me and you'll know how important I am.

Sylvia Plath


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I woke to the sound of rain.

Sylvia Plath

Tag: simple rain subtle beauty-in-literature



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The frost makes a flower,
the dew makes a star

--from "Death

Sylvia Plath


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We all like to think that we are important enough to need psychiatrists.

Sylvia Plath


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I wait and ache.

Sylvia Plath

Tag: a-poem-for-three-voices three-women



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With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand...hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die.

Sylvia Plath


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This month is fit for little.
The dead ripen in the grapeleaves.
A red tongue is among us.
Mother, keep out of my barnyard,
I am becoming another.

Dog-head, devourer:
Feed me the berries of dark.
The lids won't shut. Time
Unwinds from the great umbilicus of the sun
its endless glitter.

I must swallow it all.

Lady, who are those others in the moons' vat-
Sleepdrunk, their limbs at odds?
In this light the blood is black.
Tell me my name.

Sylvia Plath


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Why is crying so pleasurable? I feel clean, absolutely purged after it. As if I had a grief to get over with, some deep sorrow.

Sylvia Plath


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I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God

Sylvia Plath


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My mother smiled. "I know my baby wasn't like that."
I looked at her. "Like what?"
"Like those awful people. Those awful dead people at that hospital." She paused. "I knew you'd decide to be all right again.

Sylvia Plath


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