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sylviaplathink · 17 days

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“How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.”

–The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, diary entry no. 25, 1950

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #literary tattoos #tattoos #sylviaplath #the unabridged journals of sylvia plath #sylvia plath quotes #leg tattoos #mr preston tattoo

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sylviaplathink · 19 days

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“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

–Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter Seven, 1963

FINALLY got my fig tattoo 😭💔

#sylvia plath #the bell jar #sylvia plath tattoos #sylviaplath #the bell jar tattoos #sylvia plath quotes #fig tree tattoos #fig tattoos #book tattoos #arm tattoos

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sylviaplathink · 1 month

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"I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn’t speak."

—The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, diary entry for 19 February 1956

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #sylviaplath #tattoos #leg tattoos #the unabridged journals of sylvia plath #sylvia plath quotes #mr preston tattoo #literary tattoos #book tattoos

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sylviaplathink · 2 months

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via @dam.corales.tattoo on Instagram

Based in Montevideo, Uruguay

Studio photograph of Sylvia Plath by Warren Kay Vantine, 1954 (©Estate of Sylvia Plath)

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #literary tattoos #tattoos #sylviaplath #sylvia plath portrait tattoos #portrait tattoos #leg tattoos #book tattoo

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sylviaplathink · 3 months

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via @Kenny on Twitter

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“Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.”

- Sylvia Plath’s epitaph (a quote from Monkey: A Journey to the West by Wu Cheng’en, 1592) on her grave at the St Thomas à Becket Churchyard in Heptonstall, West Yorkshire, England

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Today marks the 61st anniversary of Sylvia Plath’s death! RIP!

(27 October 1932 – 11 Feburary 1963)

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #literary tattoos #tattoos #sylviaplath #arm tattoos #epitaph

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sylviaplathink · 3 months

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via mstjohn813 on instagram

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"I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes"

–Sylvia Plath, from the poem "Tulips", written 18 March 1961, in Ariel, 1965

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TULIPS The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons. They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut. Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble, They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps, Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another, So it is impossible to tell how many there are. My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage —- My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks. I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address. They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I am a nun now, I have never been so pure. I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free —- The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet. The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds. They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down, Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour, A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck. 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. Before they came the air was calm enough, Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise. Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. They concentrate my attention, that was happy Playing and resting without committing itself. The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health.

#sylvia plath #literary tattoos #sylvia plath tattoos #tattoos #sylviaplath #sylvia plath tulips #tulips #tulip tattoos #sylvia plath ariel #sylvia plath ariel tattoos #arm tattoos #poetry tattooos #book tattoos #sylvia plath quotes #sylvia plath poetry

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sylviaplathink · 3 months

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“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”

—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 20, 1963

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #the bell jar #the bell jar tattoos #i am tattoos #sylviaplath #i am i am i am #literary tattoos #tattoos #book tattoos #sylvia plath quotes #collar bone tattoo

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sylviaplathink · 4 months

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“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

–Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter Seven, 1963

In the novel ‘The Bell Jar’ by Sylvia Plath, there’s a passage about sitting under a fig tree; seeing each fig as a different possibility for the future and starving because “I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest.”

Never in my life have I related to a passage of literature as much as that one.

Huge Thank You to my oldest and dearest friend @squigglysqualor - love you Betch 😘✨♥️

#tattoo #tatted #forearmtattoo #guyswithink #gayswithink #single #gaycation #lifelongfriend #firstlove #loveyou #vancouver #frenchiesofinstagram #blackwork #linework #gay #thebelljar #sylviaplath #bookworm #literature #hopelessromantic #gypsysoul #hippiespirits #sebonthego (at Vancouver, British Columbia)

#sylvia plath #sylvia plath tattoos #sylviaplath #the bell jar #the bell jar tattoos #sylvia plath quotes #arm tattoos #fig tree tattoos #fig tattoos #fig tree tattoo #book tattoos

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sylviaplathink · 4 months

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Manchester, England, United Kingdom

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"If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed." —-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter Five, 1963

#sylvia plath #literary tattoos #tattoos #the bell jar #sylvia plath tattoos #the bell jar tattoos #sylviaplath #mr preston tattoo #book tattoo #sylvia plath quotes #arm tattoos

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sylviaplathink · 4 months

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I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. “I am, I am, I am.”

—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter Twenty, 1963

My Sylvia Plath tattoo makes me the happiest girl in all of the land ✌🏻"I took a deep breath and listened to the old rag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.“

#sylviaplath #tattoo #the bell jar #sylvia plath tattoos #the bell jar tattoos #i am i am i am #i am tattoos #arm tattoos #fig tree tattoos #fig tree #book tattoos #tattoos #sylvia plath

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sylviaplathink · 4 months

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