"One night she hid the pink cotton scarf from her raincoat in the pillowcase when the nurse came around to lock up her drawers and closets for the night. In the dark she had made a loop and tried to pull it tight around her throat. But always just as the air stopped coming and she felt the rushing grow louder in her ears, her hands would slacken and let go, and she would lie there panting for breath, cursing the dumb instinct in her body that fought to go on living"
Quote collection
Sylvia Plath quotes (page 7 of 31)
610 quotes — follow a thought to its full quote page.
"But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion."
"I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions."
"I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn."
"I have stitched life into me like a rare organ"
"Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die."
"Don't let the wicked city get you down."
"I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem, when I'm writing one. Having written one, then you fall away very rapidly from having been a poet to becoming a sort of poet in rest, which isn't the same thing at all. But I think the actual experience of writing a poem is a magnificent one."
"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 responsible for my seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I were carrying that cadavers head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar."
"When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tup and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank into sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies."
"The box is only temporary."
"The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm"
"Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience."
"I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give."
"I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me."
"I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love."
"Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die."
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again."
"All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence."
"I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life. I can't be satisfied with the colossal job of merely living. Oh, no, I must order life in sonnets and sestinas and provide a verbal reflector for my 60-watt lighted head."