I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own. I pick it up, exile that I am, like the purple ‘lucky stones’ I used to collect with a white ring all the way round, or the shell of a blue mussel with its rainbowy angel’s fingernail interior; and in one wash of memory the colors deepen and gleam, the early world draws breath.
Sylvia PlathAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 27, 1932
- Died: February 11, 1963