#Sylvia Plath

❝ I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I lift my lids and all is born again. ❞                                  — ???......

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen

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What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don’t know and I’m afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I

_Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.”...

I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of ...

Do you know what a poem is, Esther?' No, what?' I would say. A piece of dust.' Then, just as he was smiling and starting to ...

self-love >>>>>>>>>>>>>...

"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting ...

And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.

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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

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The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality.

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I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one.

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And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.

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And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.

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And it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.

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Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.

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The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, (BR) Me and you.

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If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.

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Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen

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Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.

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The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

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The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

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It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.

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