I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it… — 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've got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it's too late. But writing… — 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
Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous,… — 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
What I want back is what I was Before the bed, before the knife, Before the brooch-pin and the salve Fixed me… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
…* to know a lot of people I love pieces of, and to want to synthesize those pieces in me somehow, be… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security,’ and, ‘What a man is is an… — 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
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
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I didn't know shorthand either. This meant I couldn't get a good job after college. My mother kept telling me nobody wanted… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want to kill myself, to escape from responsiblity, to crawl abjectly back into the womb. — 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
“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
