Plath Quotes

Quotes tagged as "plath" Showing 1-24 of 24
Sylvia Plath
“Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Ted Hughes
“He could not stand. It was not
That he could not thrive, he was born
With everything but the will –
That can be deformed, just like a limb.
Death was more interesting to him.
Life could not get his attention.”
Ted Hughes, Season Songs

Sylvia Plath
“It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Sylvia Plath
“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.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“What do you have in mind after you graduate?"

What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate
school or a grant to study all over Europe, and then I thought I'd be a professor and write
books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort. Usually I had
these plans on the tip of my tongue.

"I don't really know," I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Sylvia Plath
“With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous and alarmingly timeless love for you; which will always be.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am a victim of it then, not a master.”
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“She looked terrible, but very wise.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Alana Massey
“Sylvia was an early literary manifestation of a young woman who takes endless selfies and posts them with vicious captions calling herself fat and ugly. She is at once her own documentarian and the reflexive voice that says she is unworthy of documentation. She sends her image into the world to be seen, discussed, and devoured, proclaiming that the ordinariness or ugliness of her existence does not remove her right to have it.”
Alana Massey, All the Lives I Want: Essays About My Best Friends Who Happen to Be Famous Strangers

Kelli Russell Agodon
“Maybe if I could slip into Sylvia's mind, sort out the spices in her rack, alphabetize them and dust them off. Maybe then I'd understand how it's the little things that pull you under.”
Kelli Russell Agodon

Ted Hughes
“In my position, the right witchdoctor

Might have caught you in flight with his bare hands,

Tossed you, cooling, one hand to the other,

Godless, happy, quieted.

I managed

A wisp of your hair, your ring, your watch, your nightgown.”
Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters

Ted Hughes
“But inside your sob-sodden Kleenex

And your Saturday night panics,

Under your hair done this way and that way,

Behind what looked like rebounds

And the cascade of cries diminuendo,

You were undeflected.

You were gold-jacketed, solid silver,

Nickel-tipped. Trajectory perfect

As through ether.”
Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters

Alana Massey
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.” I struggle to think of any line of thinking more linked to being a socialized female than to consider the declaration of simply existing to feel like a form of bragging. But that, of course, is the plight of the feeling girl: to be told again and again that her very existence is something not worth declaring.”
Alana Massey, All the Lives I Want: Essays About My Best Friends Who Happen to Be Famous Strangers

Sylvia Plath
“This mizzle fits me like a sad jacket.”
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“The eyes and the faces all turned themselves towards me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room.”
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“Seré una de las pocas poetisas en el mundo completamente feliz de ser mujer, no una de esas amargadas y frustradas, retorcidas imitadoras de hombres, que en su mayoría acaban destrozadas”
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“I am sitting in my room, looking out at a scene of snow pouring down with ice and sleet and thinking of how sometimes people are really wonderful after all.”
Sylvia Plath, Letters of Sylvia Plath, Volume 1: 1940-1956

Sylvia Plath
“Değişebilirim,yusyuvarlak bir boşluğa sığabilmek için köşelerimi törpüleyebilirim.Tanrım,umarım kendimi bu şekilde katletmek zorunda kalmam”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“... They're really going to mash the world up this time, the damn fools. When I read that description of the victims of Nagasaki I was sick: "And we saw what first looked like lizards crawling up the hill, croaking. It got lighter and we could see that it was humans, their skin burned off, and their bodies broken where they had been thrown against something." Sounds like something out of a horror story. God save us from doing that again. For the United States did that. Our guilt. My country. No, never again. And then one reads in the papers "Second bomb blast in Nevada bigger than the first! " What obsession do men have for destruction and murder? Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled "enemy?" Weren't the Russians communists when they helped us slap down the Germans? And now. What could we do with the Russian nation if we bombed it to bits? How could we "rule" such a mass of foreign people - - - we, who don't even speak the Russian language? How could we control them under our "democratic" system, we, who even now are losing that precious commodity, freedom of speech? (Mr. Crockett," that dear man, was questioned by the town board. A supposedly "enlightened" community. All he is is a pacifist. That, it seems, is a crime.) Why do we send the pride of our young men overseas to be massacred for three dirty miles of nothing but earth? Korea was never divided into "North" and "South." They are one people; and our democracy is of no use to those who have not been educated to it. Freedom is not of use to those who do not know how to employ it. When I think of that little girl on the farm talking about her brother - "And he said all they can think of over there is killing those God-damn Koreans." What does she know of war? Of lizard-like humans crawling up a hillside? All she knows is movies and school room gossip. Oh, America's young, strong. So is Russia. And how they can think of atom-bombing each other, I don't know. What will be left? War will come some day now, with all the hothead leaders and articles "What If Women are Drafted?" Hell, I'd sooner be a citizen of Africa than see America mashed and bloody and making a fool of herself. This country has a lot, but we're not always right and pure. And what of the veterans of the first and second world wars? The maimed, the crippled. What good their lives? Nothing. They rot in the hospitals, and we forget them. I could love a Russian boy - and live with him. It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are Catholic. I can't see their beliefs, but I can see the things they love to do on earth. When you come right down to it, I do believe in the freedom of the individual - but to kill off all the ones who could forge a strong nation? How foolish! Of what good - living and freedom without home, without family, without all that makes life?”
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“the razor slitting the stomach, and the life throbbing away, red flood by red flood - I lay crouched, kneeling on the khaki quilt on the living room floor where there was air,”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
tags: plath

Sylvia Plath
“an atmosphere of pain blood and pain and misery or staunch bitter rebellion of body- but no peace- no transfiguration- atmosphere of fear of physical pain - wincing from the knife- the loss of identity which is slavery to physical pain. Brutal, passionate flesh- marisse crucifix- pain smoothed way, identity smoothed away in pain- pure anguish human attempts at deciphering the riddle of pain- blood: florid and ornate-ugly, unredeeemed, ironic- waiting in corridors- cross of flesh x spirit- minor daily crosses-”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath
“Rooms.Every room a world. To be god: to be every life before we die: a dream to drive men mad. But to be one person, one woman- to live, suffer, bear children and learn others lives and make them into print worlds spinning like planets in the minds of other men.”
Sylvia Plath
tags: men, plath

Sylvia Plath
“I am going for a long walk”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
tags: plath