by Sylvia Plath
United States
27 Oct 1932 // 11 Feb 1963
Poet / Novelist

Paralytic (1)

It happens. Will it go on?/ My mind a rock,/ No fingers to grip, no tongue,/ My god the iron lung/ / That loves me, pumps/ My two/ Dust bags in and out,/ Will not/ / Let me relapse/ While the day out...

Daddy (2)

You do not do, you do not do/ Any more, black shoe/ In which I have lived like a foot/ For thirty years, poor and white,/ Barely daring to breathe or Achoo./ / Daddy, I have had to kill you./ You die...

Lady Lazarus (3)

I have done it again./ One year in every ten/ I manage it--/ / A sort of walking miracle, my skin/ Bright as a Nazi lampshade,/ My right foot/ / A paperweight,/ My face a featureless, fine/ Jew linen...

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Sylvia Plath


On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."