Sylvia Plath Quotes

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad.

The only reason I remembered this play was because it had a mad person in it, and everything I had ever read about mad people stuck in my mind, while everything else flew out.

What obsession do men have for destruction and murder? Who do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled 'enem...

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

I cry at everything. Simply to spite myself and embarrass myself.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a hap...

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.

And I knew that in spite of all the roses and kisses and restaurant dinners a man showered on a woman before he married her, what he secretly wanted was for her to flatten out underneath his feet like...

The day I went into physics class it was death.

In London the day after Christmas (Boxing Day), it began to snow: my first snow in England. For five years, I had been tactfully asking, 'Do you ever have snow at all?' as I steeled myself to the six...

I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.

What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security,’ and, ‘What a man is is an arrow into the future and a what a woman is is the place the arrow shoots off from.

I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

It never occurred to me to say no.

It was like the first time i saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward the cadavers head, or what was left of it - floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and in the face of Buddy Willard, who was r...

One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.

Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream

Do you realize the illicit sensuous delight I get from picking my nose? I always have, ever since I was a child. There are so many subtle variations of sensation. A delicate, pointed-nailed fifth fing...

The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fanOf silver as the rondo slows; now reelsBegin on tilted violins to spanThe whole revolving tall glass palace hal...

The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star.