Sylvia Plath Quotes

I have simply ordered a box of maniacs. They can be sent back. They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Arrival of the Bee Box (l. 23-25). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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I am nude as a chicken neck, does nobody love me? Yes, here is the secretary of bees with her white shop smock,
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 6-7). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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The villagers are untying their disguises, they are shaking hands. Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished, why am I cold?
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 54-56). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Creamy bean flowers with black eyes and leaves like bored hearts. Is it blood clots the tendrils are dragging up that string? No, no, it is scarlet flowers that will one day be edible.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 18-20). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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A curtain of wax dividing them from the bride flight, The upflight of the murderess into a heaven that loves her.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 47-48). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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They are the villagers— The rector, the midwife, the sexton, the agent for bees. In my sleeveless summery dress I have no protection, And they are all gloved and covered, why did nobody tell me?
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 1-4). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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She is very clever. She is old, old, old, she must live another year, and she knows it. While in their fingerjoint cells the new virgins Dream of a duel they will win inevitably,
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 43-46). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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The white hive is snug as a virgin, Sealing off her brood cells, her honey, and quietly humming. Smoke rolls and scarves in the grove. The mind of the hive thinks this is the end of everything.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Bee Meeting (l. 34-37). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Nights, I squat in the cornucopia Of your left ear, out of the wind, Counting the red stars and those of plum-color. The sun rises under the pillar of your tongue.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Colossus (l. 24-26). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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Thirty years now I have labored To dredge the silt from your throat. I am none the wiser.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), U.S. poet. The Colossus (l. 8-10). . . The Collected Poems [Sylvia Plath]. Ted Hughes, ed. (1981) HarperCollins.
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