This is Katie C.’s tattoo:
The reason I got it was because I can really relate to having many paths in my life I might take, and I want to remind myself that if I wait around for the perfect, right one, eventually all my choices will be gone.

This is Katie C.’s tattoo:
The reason I got it was because I can really relate to having many paths in my life I might take, and I want to remind myself that if I wait around for the perfect, right one, eventually all my choices will be gone.

This is Vincent’s tattoo.
By a mad miracle I go intact
Among the common rout
Thronging sidewalk, street,
And bickering shops;
Nobody blinks a lid, gapes,
Or cries that this raw flesh
Reeks of the butcher’s cleaver,
Its heart and guts hung hooked
And bloodied as a cow’s split frame
Parceled out by white-jacketed assassins.
- Excerpt from “Street Song” by Sylvia Plath.
Tags: Street Song, Sylvia PlathThis tattoo belongs to Dese’Rae Stage (see her other tattoo), and was done by Ryan Falcon at Almost Famous Tattoo in Miami, FL.
3 lines from the poem “Tulips” by Sylvia Plath:
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
This tattoo was submitted by Allison, who says:
The tattoo is a drawing of a pair of shoes by Sylvia Plath. It is part of a small collection of her drawings that appears in the back of some paperback editions of “The Bell Jar”.
I’ve had the same copy of the book since high school and always keep it near me.

Drawing from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”
- The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
“I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.”
- Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath
Tags: Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath“I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”
- The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
“Consummatum est: this bill is ended,
And Faustus hath bequeathed his soul to Lucifer.
But what is this inscription on mine arm?
Homo fuge! Whither should I fly?
If unto God, he’ll throw me down to hell.
My senses are deceived; here’s nothing writ:
I see it plain, here in this place is writ,
Homo fuge! Yet shall not Faustus fly.”
- Faustus in The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe