I fixed my eyes on the larget cloud, as if, when it passed out of my sight, I might have the good luck to pass with it.
Tag: Sylvia Plath
Total 7 Posts
Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.
I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
I talk to God, but the sky is empty.
What did my hands do before they held you?
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.