Sylvia Plath Quotes

He tells me how sweet The babies look in their hospital Icebox,
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Death and Co. (L. 13-15). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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The dead bell, The dead bell. Somebody's done for.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Death and Co. (L. 29-31). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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His hair long and plausive. Bastard Masturbating a glitter, He wants to be loved.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Death and Co. (L. 22-25). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Each dead child coiled, a white serpent, One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Edge (l. 9-11). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Edge, Ariel (1965). Opening lines of Sylvia Plath's last poem, written a week before her suicide.
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The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Edge (l. 17-18). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Elm (l. 1-3). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Elm (l. 40-42). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches?—
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Elm (l. 38-39). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me Cruelly, being barren. Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Elm (l. 22-24). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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