La Vie en Rose

Just a girl playing hide and seek with life.Trying to exchange the Beautiful for the Truth. When in doubt think pink.

silenttearsaretheworst:

Tumblr on We Heart It.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
       In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
       By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
       Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
       In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
       I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
       Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
       In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
       My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
       And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
       In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
       Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
       In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
       Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
       Of those who were older than we—
       Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
       Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
       Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
       Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
       In her sepulchre there by the sea—
       In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

—   Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe (via words-in-lines)

“Is there no way out of the mind?”

—   Sylvia Plath (via 3rddaisybrain)

“Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go write it down, you either over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.”

—   Sylvia Plath (via observando)

“…and because you’re eighteen, because you’re still vulnerable, because you still don’t have faith in yourself, you talk a little fliply, a little too wisely, just to cover up so you won’t be accused of sentimentality or emotionalism or feminine tactics.”

—   Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via ladyylazzarus)

“There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It’s like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction—every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it’s really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.”

—   Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via sad-plath)

(Source: sad-plath, via sad-plath)

“It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.”

—   Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. (via wordsnquotes)

“I think I made you up inside my head.”

—   Sylvia Plath (via quotes-shape-us)

“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.”

—   Sylvia Plath - The Bell Jar (via whitedem0n)

“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship – but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”

—   Sylvia Plath (via radsadcat)