Sylvia Plath Quotes - Page 3

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

God, who am I?

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes and all is born again.

I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.

The blood jet is poetry
There is no stopping it.

O love, how did you get here?

-Nick and the Candlestick

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?
Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?

But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue

The still waters
Wrap my lips,

Eyes, nose and ears,
A clear
Cellophane I cannot crack.

brave love, dream
not of staunching such strict flame, but come,
lean to my wound; burn on, burn on.