Sylvia Plath, Ariel Quotes
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 have a call.
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 outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.
The still watersWrap my lips, Eyes, nose and ears, A clearCellophane I cannot crack.
What is so real as the cry of a child?A rabbit's cry may be wilderBut it has no soul.
They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.--From the poem "Lady Lazarus", written 23-29 October 1962
Its snaky acids kiss.It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
This is a case without a body.The body does not come into it at all.
