Sylvia Plath Quotes

And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.

And I, stepping from this skinOf old bandages, boredoms, old facesStep to you from the black car of Lethe,Pure as a baby.

Blameless as daylight I stood lookingAt a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown,Tails streaming against the greenBackdrop of sycamores. Sun was strikingWhite chapel pinnacles over the roofs,Holding...

Can nothingness be so prodigal?

Character is fate.

Dying is an art.Like everything else,I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell.I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I have a call.

ElmBY SYLVIA PLATHI know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear.I do not fear it: I have been there.Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions?Or the voice...

Evde de karnımız doymuyor değildi ama büyükannem, pişirdiği ucuz et yemeklerinin daha ilk lokmasını ağzımıza götürürken, Umarım beğenirsiniz, şunun yarım kilosuna tam kırk bir sent verdim, deme alışka...

Everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day, spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free. I want, I think, to be...

I am still raw.I say I may be back.You know what lies are for.Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.

I collected men with interesting names.

I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.

I do not love; I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit. I have none of the selfless love of my mother. I have none of the plodding, practical love. . . . . I am,...

I fancied you'd return the way you said,

I felt very low. I had been unmasked only that morning by Jay Cee herself, and I felt now that all the uncomfortable suspicions I had about myself were coming true. After nineteen years of running aft...

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are floweringBlue and mystical over the face of the starsInside the church, the saints will all be blue,Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,Their hands...

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:It is what you fear.I do not fear it: I have been there.--From the poem Elm, written 19 April 1962

I need someone to pour myself into.

I plummeted down past the zigzaggers, the students, the experts, through year after year of doubleness and smiles and compromise, into my own past.