Sylviaplath Quotes

Mad Girl’s Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit Seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
format-br0kenwings LEAVE THIS HERE PLEASE.

Remember: 5 months is not
ETERNITY. TWO MONTHS IS
noT eTerniTY. even iF
IT LooKs THaT waY now.
 
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i felt dull
          AND FLAT          
and FULL OF SHATTERED VISIONS.
 

 


format-br0kenwings LEAVE THIS HERE PLEASE.

men Have useD  Her meanLY.
SHE WILL EAT THEM
 
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The round sky goes on minding its business.
Your absence is inconspicuous;
Nobody can tell what I lack.

PARLIAMENT HILL FIELDS


Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece purple,
Must you kill what you can?



Hurl yourself at goals above your head and bear the lacerations that come when you slip and make a fool of yourself. Try always, as long as you have breath in your body, to take the hard way– and work, work, work to build yourself into a rich, continually evolving entity.








There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them. Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: “I'll go take a hot bath.”






” 

          I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me 
I'm HeRe.



If you pluck out my heart
To find what makes it move,
You’ll halt the clock
That syncopates our love.

Sylvia Plath


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