Sylvia.

dark, honest, beautiful words

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

How we need another soul to cling to.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

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let me live, love, and say it well in good sentences.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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Is there no way out of the mind?

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

I was supposed to be having the time of my life.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Slowly I swam up from the bottom of a black sleep.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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You are still on your own; be stoic; don't panic; get through this hell to the generous sweet overlowing giving love of spring.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Thank God I get tired and can sleep.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Sometimes, in panic, mind goes blank, world whooshes away in void, and I feel I have to run, or walk on into the night for miles till I drop exhausted.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

It seems almost an incredible relief to know that there is someone outside oneself who is not happy all the time. We must be at low eebb when we are this far into the black: that everyone else, merely because they are "other" in invulnerable. That is a damn lie.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

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Hostility grows, too. That dangerous, deadly venom which comes from a sick heart.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Dear Doctor: I am feeling very sick. I have a heart in my stomach which throbs and mocks.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

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That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

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I had not the heart, not the flexible heart, not the guts.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Tomorrow what? Always patching masks, making excuses for having read a bare half of what I purposed. Yet a life is passing.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[thewordsofsylviaplath-blog]

Finishing the next year here, enjoying the pressure of reading, thinking, while at my back is always the mocking tick: A Life Is Passing. My Life.

Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath