I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am afraid. I am not solid, but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb, paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline, you've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space that you've… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I feel self-repressed again. The old fall disease. Where is my willpower? The idea of a life gets in the way of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I must say that I am not very genteel and I feel that gentility has a stranglehold: the neatness, the wonderful tidiness,… — 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 began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Sometimes I feel like I'm not solid. I'm hollow. There's nothing behind my eyes. I'm a negative of a person. All I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I had hoped, at my departure, I would feel sure and knowledgeable about everything that lay ahead -- after all, I had… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I do feel that now and I feel that this development of recording poems, of speaking poems at readings, of having records… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
…* to learn that money makes life smooth in some ways, and to feel how tight and threadbare life is if you… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for-women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess I'm afraid for myself... the old primitive urge for survival. It's… — 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
From the night Buddy Willard kissed me and said I must go out with a lot of boys, he made me feel… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself ... the old primitive urge for survival.… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I feel that very strongly: having been an academic, having been tempted by the invitation to stay on to become a Ph.D.,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Very depressed today. Unable to write a thing. Menacing gods. I feel outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at… — 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
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 cannot life for life itself: but for the words which stay the flux. My life, I feel, will not be lived… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I always was interested in prose. As a teenager, I published short stories. And I always wanted to write the long short… — 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
