Sylvia Plath Quotes

If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them.

I wondered what terrible thing it was that I had done.

I sank back in the gray, plush seat and closed my eyes. The air of the bell jar wadded round me and I couldn't stir.

I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before; how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate;...

I have taken a pill to killThe thinPapery feeling.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boatStubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.

I hated men because they didn’t stay around and love me like a father: I could prick holes in them & show they were no father-material. I made them propose and then showed them they hadn’t a chance. I...

I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around w...

I had removed my patent leather shoes after a while, for they foundered badly in the sand. It pleased me to think they would be perched there on the silver log, pointing out to sea, like a sort of sou...

I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and saying Ah! in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as I we...

I had decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover.

I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

I felt sorry when I came to the last page. I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence.

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mant...

I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.

I decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover, and that I would never learn a word of shorthand. If I never learned shorthand I would never have to use it.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

I began to see why woman-haters could make such fools of women. Woman-haters were like gods: invulnerable and chock full of power. They descended, and then they disappeared. You could never catch one.

I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.Clouds pass and disperse.Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?Is it for s...