Sylvia Plath Quotes about Moon

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There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.

Sylvia Plath

Unique, Moon, Light

Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.54, Anchor

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me Cruelly, being barren. Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.

Sylvia Plath

Moon, Light, Radiance

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel”, p.18, Faber & Faber

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 me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

Sylvia Plath

Stars, Eye, Moon

sylvia plath (1971). “the bell jar”

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

Sylvia Plath

Beautiful, Moon, Impression

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel”, p.45, Faber & Faber

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

Sylvia Plath

Dark, Moon, Doors

Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, p.153, Faber & Faber

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

Sylvia Plath

Moon, Thinking, Insane

sylvia plath (1971). “the bell jar”

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can

Sylvia Plath

Beer, Moon, Laughing

The moon, too, abases her subjects, but in the daytime she is ridiculous. Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand, arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity, white and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide. No day is safe from news of you, walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.

Sylvia Plath

Broken Heart, Moon, Thinking

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel”, p.45, Faber & Faber