So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think if I had done anything else I would like to have been a doctor. This is the sort of polar… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed,… — 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
Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not merely as feeling, not merely as thinking,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn't say this, I like many of them, a great many of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Winter is for women The woman still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think that personal experience is very important, but certainly it shouldn't be a kind of shut-box and mirror-looking, narcissistic experience. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
So much working, reading, thinking, living to do. A lifetime is not long enough. Nor youth to old age long enough. Immortality… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem, when I'm writing one. Having written one, then you fall away… — 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
If you have no past or no future, which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you… — 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
It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just… — 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
If I didn't think, I'd be much happier; if I didn't have any sex organs, I wouldn't waver on the brink of… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think the coming of spring, the stars overhead, the first snowfall and so on are gifts for a child, a young… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want, I think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself "the girl who wanted to be God."… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Strange, when one thinks of all the other boys, infinite experimental kisses, test tube infatuations, crushes, pseudo-loves. All through this physical separation,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - -… — 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
Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God — or the universal woman-and-man — or anything much. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up… — 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
