Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.

Quote by Sylvia Plath

Topics: Sylvia Plath Quotes

The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm

The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing...

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing...

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and...

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and...

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to...

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to...

Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not...

Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not...

But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare...

But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare...

How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.

How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then...

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then...

I could feel tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that...

I could feel tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that...

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I...

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I...

Is there no way out of the mind?

Is there no way out of the mind?

The velvet dodges of the hypocrit

The velvet dodges of the hypocrit

I am too pure for you or anyone.

I am too pure for you or anyone.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I...

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I...

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.

The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I...

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I...