Sylvia plath

I am too pure for you or anyone.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

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.

But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of...

The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.