
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Spain

seen from Türkiye

seen from Philippines

seen from Malaysia

seen from Pakistan
seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from Spain
seen from China

seen from Spain

seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Honduras

seen from United States
Salvia Palth
...you are the moving epitome of all this. Of you, by you, for you. God, i this all it is, the ricocheting down the corridor of laughter and tears? of self-worship and self-loathing? of glory and disgust?
Sylvia Palth
The books, all that you would fill your rainy days with, line the shelves; friendly, fingered volumes. So I sit here, smiling as i think in my fragments way: Woman is but an engine of ecstasy, a mimic of the earth from the ends of her curled hair to her red-lacquered nails. Then I think, remembering the family of beautiful children upstairs: Itsn't it better to give in to the pleasant cycles of reproduction, the easy, comforting presence of a man around the house? -The Journals of Sylvia Palth
I've got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it's too late. But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good. The big men are all deaf; they don't want to hear the little squeaking as they walk across the street in cleated boots.
Sylvia Palth