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… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off. — 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
Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It… — 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 always has to end, doesn't it? We always have to separate.' 'Yes,' I said. He was insistent, 'But it doesn't always… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Hurl yourself at goals above your head and bear the lacerations that come when you slip and make a fool of yourself.… — 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 shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the old yellow… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Since my woman's world is perceived greatly through the emotions and the senses, I treat it that way in my writing -… — 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
To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I thought if only I had a keen, shapely bone structure to my face or could discuss politics shrewdly or was a… — 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 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 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 liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas, as if whatever it was the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep… — 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
“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
