Marta > Marta's Quotes

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  • #1
    Sylvia Plath
    “LADY LAZARUS

    I have done it again.
    One year in every ten
    I manage it--

    A sort of walking miracle, my skin
    Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
    My right foot

    A paperweight,
    My face a featureless, fine
    Jew linen.

    Peel off the napkin
    O my enemy.
    Do I terrify?--

    The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
    The sour breath
    Will vanish in a day.

    Soon, soon the flesh
    The grave cave ate will be
    At home on me

    And I a smiling woman.
    I am only thirty.
    And like the cat I have nine times to die.

    This is Number Three.
    What a trash
    To annihilate each decade.

    What a million filaments.
    The peanut-crunching crowd
    Shoves in to see

    Them unwrap me hand and foot--
    The big strip tease.
    Gentlemen, ladies

    These are my hands
    My knees.
    I may be skin and bone,

    Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
    The first time it happened I was ten.
    It was an accident.

    The second time I meant
    To last it out and not come back at all.
    I rocked shut

    As a seashell.
    They had to call and call
    And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

    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've a call.

    It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
    It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
    It's the theatrical

    Comeback in broad day
    To the same place, the same face, the same brute
    Amused shout:

    'A miracle!'
    That knocks me out.
    There is a charge

    For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
    For the hearing of my heart--
    It really goes.

    And there is a charge, a very large charge
    For a word or a touch
    Or a bit of blood

    Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
    So, so, Herr Doktor.
    So, Herr Enemy.

    I am your opus,
    I am your valuable,
    The pure gold baby

    That melts to a shriek.
    I turn and burn.
    Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

    Ash, ash--
    You poke and stir.
    Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

    A cake of soap,
    A wedding ring,
    A gold filling.

    Herr God, Herr Lucifer
    Beware
    Beware.

    Out of the ash
    I rise with my red hair
    And I eat men like air.

    -- written 23-29 October 1962”
    Sylvia Plath, Ariel

  • #2
    Sylvia Plath
    “You do not do, you do not do
    Any more, black shoe
    In which I have lived like a foot
    For thirty years, poor and white,
    Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

    Daddy, I have had to kill you.
    You died before I had time―
    Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
    Ghastly statue with one grey toe
    Big as a Frisco seal”
    Sylvia Plath, Ariel

  • #3
    Sylvia Plath
    “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.)”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #4
    Ernest Hemingway
    “we would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.”
    Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

  • #5
    Edgar Allan Poe
    “And so, being young and dipt in folly
    I fell in love with melancholy,
    And used to throw my earthly rest
    And quiet all away in jest—
    I could not love except where Death
    Was mingling his with Beauty's breath—
    Or Hymen, Time, and Destiny
    Were stalking between her and me.”
    Edgar Allan Poe, The Complete Stories and Poems

  • #6
    Sylvia Plath
    “I was supposed to be having the time of my life.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #7
    Franz Kafka
    “You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.”
    Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

  • #8
    Franz Kafka
    “I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.”
    Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

  • #9
    Emily Brontë
    “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  • #10
    Sylvia Plath
    “I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath



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