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?"
"I’ll never speak to God again."
"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."
"Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing."
"Hurl yourself at goals above your head and bear the lacerations that come when you slip and make a fool of yourself. Try always, as long as you have breath in your body, to take the hard way–and work, work, work to build yourself into a rich, continually evolving entity."
"The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower."