The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life. — 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… — 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
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Living with him is like being told a perpetual story: his mind is the biggest, most imaginative I have ever met. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
It is a feeling that no matter what the ideas or conduct of others, there is a unique rightness and beauty to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts,… — 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… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“For the first time in my life, sitting there in the sound-proof heart of the UN building between Constantin who could play… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Your security and love of life don't depend on the presence of another, but only on yourself, your chosen work, and your… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
How can I tell Bob that my happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“For instance, I could hold my nose, close my eyes, and jump blindly into the waters of some man's insides, submerging myself… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Well, I tried drowning, but that didn't work; somehow the urge to life, mere physical life, is damn strong, and I felt… — 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
I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles threaded together by wires. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life. I can't… — 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
“It's like watching paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction - every second the city gets smaller and smaller,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Antoine St. Exupery once mourned the loss of a man and the secret treasures that he held inside him. I loved Exupery;… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The constant struggle in mature life, I think, is to accept the necessity of tragedy and conflict, and not to try to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
My mother had taught shorthand and typing to support us since my father died, and secretly she hated it and hated him… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone… — 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
Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Then my gaze slid over the people to the blaze of green beyond the diaphanous curtains, and I felt as if I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“Sometimes I wondered if I had made Joan up. Other times I wondered if she would continue to pop in at every… — 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
