Sylvia Plath Quotes

If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.

There's the moon asking to stay long enough for the clouds to fly me away

What do you do there, moon, in the sky? Tell me what you do, silent moon. When evening comes you rise and go contemplating wastelands; then you set.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.

The moon, by her comparative proximity, and the constantly varying appearances produced by her several phases, has always occupied a considerable share of the attention of the inhabitants of the earth.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, It's not warm when she's away, Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, And she's always gone too long, Anytime she goes away.

Homesickness is universal. But Neapolitan homesickness goes back further than the accidents of domicile. It is nostalgia for love and loss themselves, a soul-sickness caused by the very idea of leaving.

I'm really fascinated by the moon.

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.

The moon is nothing But a circumambulating aphrodisiac Divinely subsidized to provoke the world Into a rising birth-rate

We ran as if to meet the moon.

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

The worst feeling in the world is the homesickness that comes over a man occasionally when he is at home.

I used to suffer from a lot of regret while touring. Regret at having to leave certain places, people and situations, or just a beautiful day.

I will never forget my beautiful days with you in Shanklin, they are certainly the most pleasant ones of my life. Look, I have tears in my eyes just to think about it. I am furious to be here, it is the end of happiness for a whole year.

There is something in the pang of change More than the heart can bear, Unhappiness remembering happiness.

I miss the game - I miss it a lot.

The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?

She missed him the days when some pretext served to take him away from her, just as one misses the sun on a cloudy day without having thought much about the sun when it was shining.

How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.

I dote on his very absence.

An' this house just ain't no home, Anytime she goes away.