To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I have the one person I could ever love in this world. Now I must work to be a person worthy of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Didn't you know I'm going to be the greatest, most entertaining author and artist in the world? Well, don't feel badly, I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I need not to be more with others, but to be more & more deeply, richly alone. Recreating worlds. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
To annihilate the world by annihilation of oneself is the deluded height of desperate egoism. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Is to throw together events from my own life, fictionalizing to add color—it’s a pot boiler really, but I think it will… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
A man's world is different from a woman's world and a man's emotions are different from a woman's emotions and only marriage… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
..I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to force myself again and again to leave the warmth and security of static situations and move into the world… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Since my woman's world is perceived greatly through the emotions and the senses, I treat it that way in my writing -… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I do not love; I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit. I have none… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
You have lost all delight in life. Ahead is a large array of blind alleys. You are half-deliberately, half-desperately cutting off your… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Last year a friend went dark in a nervous city alone, the sea flashing against his glasses, the sea sorted out at… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
This is newness: every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you Don't know what… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The lyric abstrusities of Auden ring mystically down the circular canals of my ear and it begins to look like snow. The… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Don't talk to me about the world needing cheerful stuff! What the person out of Belsen physical or psychological wants is nobody… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
If every soldier refused to take arms ... there would be no wars; but no one has the courage to be the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I feel, am mad as any writer must in one way be; why not make it real? I am too close to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I felt proud that the baby's first real adventure should be as a protest against the insanity of world annihilation. Already a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin; I am… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
When I was nineteen, pureness was the great issue. Instead of the world being divided up into Catholics and Protestants or Republicans… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am not a historian, but I find myself being more and more fascinated by history and now I find myself reading… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
... These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. ... --Lady Lazarus — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
Sure, I’m dramatic and sloppily semi-cynical and semi-sentimental. But, in leisure years I could grow and choose my way. Now I am living on… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I couldn't stand the idea of a woman having to have a single pure life and a man being able to have a double… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The city had faded my tan, though. I looked yellow as a Chinaman. Ordinarily, I would have been nervous about my dress and my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond" Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer, To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The most saddening thing is to admit that I am not in love. I can only love (if that means self denial - or… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
