Sylvia Plath Quotes

Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Ariel (1965). Lady Lazarus, Encounter (London, Oct. 1963).
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Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Lady Lazarus (l. 43-48). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Herr God, Herr Lucifer, Beware. Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Lady Lazarus (l. 79-84). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it—
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Lady Lazarus (l. 1-3). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Lady Lazarus (l. 21-24). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. "Mad Girl's Love Song."
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Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Morning Song (l. 1-3). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Morning Song (l. 10-12). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Morning Song (l. 13-14). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. Morning Song (l. 16-18). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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