“Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.”

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”

“You attend the funeral. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on. She is dead. You are alive. So live.”

“It isn’t a matter of forgetting. What one has to learn is how to remember and yet be free of the past. How to be there with the dead and yet still be here, on the spot, with the living.”

I knew God was a man

because he put a baby in Mary

without her permission.

Come along with me

And the butterflies and bees

We can wander through the forest

And do so as we please

Come along with me

To a cliff under a tree

Where we can gaze upon the water

As an everlasting dream

All of my collections

I’ll share them all with you

Maybe by next summer

We won’t have changed our tune

We’ll still want to be

With the butterflies and bees

Making up new numbers

And living so merrily

All of my collections

I’ll share them all with you

I’ll be here for you always

And always be with you

Come along with me

And the butterflies and bees

We can wander through the forest

And do so as we please

Living so merrily

Sylvia Plath’s manuscript poem titled “Never Try to Know More Than You Should”, written back when she was 15 (x)

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

“You’ve got to invest in the world, you’ve got to read, you’ve got to go to art galleries, you’ve got to find out the names of plants. You’ve got to start to love the world and know about the whole genius of the human race. We’re amazing people.”