I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?Shall I ever find... - Sylvia Plath
"I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?"
"I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?"
"Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning."
"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."
"I have stitched life into me like a rare organ"
"Wear your heart on your skin in this life."
"I talk to God but the sky is empty."