Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you-Sylvia Plath
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Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.
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by Sylvia Plath (via viviras)
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I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I’d stop and look so hard I never forgot it. I certainly learned a lot of things I never would have learned otherwise this way, and even when they surprised me or made me sick never let on, but pretended that’s the way I knew things were all the time.
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by Sylvia Plath (via golddress)
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Yes, I was infatuated with you; I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those.
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by Sylvia Plath (via vena-amori)
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung...
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I want to express my being as fully as I can because somewhere I picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.
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by Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via fogrey)
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A consuming love, not of a god, but of the clean unbroken sense that the rocks which are nameless, the waves which are nameless, the ragged grass which is nameless, are all defined momentarily through the consciousness of the being who observes them.
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by Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via fogrey)
