“Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.”
More from Sylvia Plath
“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”
“Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.”
“What did my heart do, with its love?”
“And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.”