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

Quote by Sylvia Plath

Topics: Sylvia Plath Quotes

Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into...

Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into...

Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it...

Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it...

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

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

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

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 am too pure for you or anyone.

I am too pure for you or anyone.

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...

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

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...

The velvet dodges of the hypocrit

The velvet dodges of the hypocrit

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...

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...

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...

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...

I love him to hell and back and heaven and back, and have and do...

I love him to hell and back and heaven and back, and have and do...

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...

Widow. The word consumes itself.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

Is there no way out of the mind?

Is there no way out of the mind?

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

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

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.