Sylvia Plath Quotes

When am I going to see you?Do you really want to know?Very much.Never, I said, and hung up with a resolute click.

The tongues of hell are dull.

I have a visual imagination.

Now and then, when I grow nostalgic about my ocean childhood - the wauling of gulls and the smell of salt, somebody solicitous will bundle me into a car and drive me to the nearest briny horizon.

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 trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way.

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the sm...

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

The lawn was white with doctors

Clouds pass and disperse.Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bedAnd sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I have room in me for love, and for ever so many little lives.

EnnuiTea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,designing futures where nothing will occur:cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning shewill still predict no perils left to conquer.Jeopardy is jejune now:...

Now, lying on my back in bed, I imagined Buddy saying, ‘Do you know what a poem is, Esther?’‘No, what?’ I would say.‘A piece of dust.’Then just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would sa...

The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. (...)It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash it again the next.It made me tired just to think of...

I may have made a straight A in physics, but I was panic-struck. Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it.

If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped...

…beating time along the edge of thought.