American - Poet | October 27, 1932 - February 11, 1963
Wear your heart on your skin in this life.
Sylvia Plath
LifeHeartSkinWearYour
My mother's face floated to mind, a pale, reproachful moon, at her last and first visit to the asylum since my twentieth birthday. A daughter in an asylum! I had done that to her. Still, she had obviously decided to forgive me.
BirthdayMotherDaughterMindMoon
It is as if my life were magically run by two electric currents: joyous positive and despairing negative - whichever is running at the moment dominates my life, floods it.
LifePositiveMomentNegativeRun
How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.
HeartThoughtPoolHumanMustHow
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
BathKnowHotThingsMustCure
My mother had taught shorthand and typing to support us since my father died, and secretly she hated it and hated him for dying and leaving no money because he didn't trust life insurance salesmen.
LifeFatherMotherTrustMoneyShe
Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: 'After a heavy rainfall, poems titled 'Rain' pour in from across the nation.'
TodayRainI AmRejectionRemember
I think the sea swallowed dozens of tea sets - tossed in abandon off liners or consigned to the tide by jilted brides. I collected a shiver of china bits, with borders of larkspur and birds or braids of daisies. No two patterns ever matched.
SeaTeaBirdsThinkTideBorders
My childhood landscape was not land but the end of the land - the cold, salt, running hills of the Atlantic. I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own.
SeaVisionChildhoodColdThinkEnd
I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad.
SadHappyChoiceActiveBeing
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
LifeCreativityImaginationYouWay
Widow. The word consumes itself.
WidowWordItselfConsumes
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