because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
It was like the first time i saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward the cadavers head, or what was left of it… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“...it wouldn't have made one scrap of difference to me, because wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream. A… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not-writing, as the spirit moved me.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I collected men with interesting names. I already knew a Socrates. He was tall and ugly and intellectual and the son of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What do you have in mind after you graduate?" What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
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
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
But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung suspended a few feet above… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“To the person in The Bell Jar, black and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“We'll act as if all this were a bad dream." A bad dream. To the person in the bell jar, blank and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting… — 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 Image
I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
... 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
