A Quote by Sylvia Plath

What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit's cry may be wilder But it has no soul. — © Sylvia Plath
What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit's cry may be wilder But it has no soul.
Storm the castle Stem the tide Rise above yourself Cry baby cry Cry cry to heaven If that doesn't do it for you Go ahead and cry like hell
I cry when I don't get food on time. I am not cranky but have the heart of a child. I cry and laugh at most times. I have the sensitivity of a child.
I was always called a cry baby, and I was one. I cried a lot as a child. In fact, I still cry a few times a day. I'm still a cry baby.
Who will cry for the little boy, lost and all alone? Who will cry for the little boy, abandoned without his own? Who will cry for the little boy? He cried himself to sleep. Who will cry for the little boy? He never had for keeps. Who will cry for the little boy? He walked the burning sand. Who will cry for the little boy? The boy inside the man. Who will cry for the little boy? Who knows well hurt and pain. Who will cry for the little boy? He died and died again. Who will cry for the little boy? A good boy he tried to be. Who will cry for the little boy, who cries inside of me?
I cry all the time. It's more like when didn't you cry. My friends are like, 'Oh God, she's sobbing again.' I cry if I'm happy, sad, normal... What really gets me is when I read a sad story about a child in the paper, especially at the moment with my hormones raging.
I have a good cry once in a while; it's such a great release. Or it could be a cry of joy - watching your child being born or your child walking across a graduation stage.
I would walk into my office, and I would close the door, and I would say, 'I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry'... At least, I wasn't going to let them see me cry.
The people are living seperately together," he said. "So there is responsibility. I cry, you cry. You cry, I cry. We all come running, and the one that stays quiet, the one that stays home, must explain. Is he in league with the criminals? Is he a coward? And what would he expect when he cries? This is simple. This is normal. This is community.
My entire soul is a cry, and all my work is a commentary on that cry.
When I cry - when I let myself cry - that's who I cry for. I don't cry for myself. I cry for the Cassie that's gone. And I wonder what that Cassie would think of me. The Cassie who kills.
I'm often a crier and many things make me cry. I come from a crying family - my mother cries, my grandma used to cry. It was never shameful to cry. My father never told me men don't cry.
Sometimes when I'm alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form I Cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confide in, I would cry among my treasured friend, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on. The world moves fast and it would rather pass by. Then to stop and see what makes one cry, so painful and sad. And sometimes... I Cry and no one cares about why.
If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in a male-dominated workplace, here they are. No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say “Never let them see you cry.” I say, if you’re so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.)
I love to cry. It's such a great release. If I'm just tired - jetlagged, I didn't get any sleep, I want to cry. I think it's important to cry.
The reason that MGM hired Bobby for Our Gang was that they could look at him and say, cry, and he'd cry, and not many kids can do that unless they really want to cry.
What is so real as the cry of a child?
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