Quotes About Fragility

My head a moon Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.

The still waters Wrap my lips, Eyes, nose and ears, A clear Cellophane I cannot crack.

You inherit white heather, a bee's wing, Two suicides, the family wolves, Hours of blankness.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind cooly as a tree or a flower.

I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in e like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

Para la persona encerrada en la campana de cristal, vacía y detenida como un bebé muerto, el mundo mismo es la pesadilla.

I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

There was no absence of lips, there were two children, But their bones showed, and the moon smiled.

I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly our of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Para a pessoa dentro da redoma de vidro, vazia e imóvel como um bebê morto, o mundo inteiro é um sonho ruim.

Gri kadife koltuÄŸa yaslan?p gözlerimi kapad?m. S?rça fanusun havas? çevremi sarm??t?, k?m?ldayam?yordum.

I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

Immagino che sarò sempre molto vulnerabile, lievemente paranoica. Ma sono anche maledettamente robusta e resistente. E felice come una pasqua.

How frail the human heart must be ? a throbbing pulse , a trembling thing ? a fragile, shining instrument of crystal, which can either weep or sing.

Donde quiera que estuviera sentada estaría sentada bajo la misma campana de cristal, agitándome en mi propio aire viciado

Something is gone. My sleeping capsule, my red and blue zeppelin Drops me from a terrible altitude. Carapace smashed, I spread to the beaks of birds.

I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in as glass that is unsteady and too full

From another, distanced mind, I saw myself sitting on the breezeway, surrounded by two white clapboard walls, a mock orange bush and a clump of birches and a box hedge, small as a doll in a doll's house.

I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

He felt the ground frail as a bird's skull under his feet, a mere shell of sanity and decorum between him and the dark entrails of the earth where the sluggish muds and scalding waters had their source.

I get a little frightened when I think of life slipping through my fingers like water…

What am I doing with a lung full of dust and a tongue of wood, Knee-deep in the cold swamped by flowers? — Sylvia Plath, from Leaving Early," Crossing the Water . (Harper Perennial May 9, 1980) Originally published 1971.

There are the clothes of a fat woman I do not know. There is my comb and brush. There is an emptiness. I am so vulnerable suddenly. I am a wound walking out of hospital. I am a wound they are letting go. I leave my health behind. I leave someone Who would adhere to me: I undo her fingers like bandages: I go. (Three Women)