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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.

Sylvia Plath

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Sylvia Plath
Age: 30 †
Born: 1932
Born: October 27
Died: 1963
Died: February 11
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Victoria Lucas
Sylvia Plath Hughes
Fairy
Joie
Tales
Vivre
Combination
Shocks
Hurtful
Beauty
Coincidence
Together
Tale
Self
Questioning
Life
Shock

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I may have made a straight A in physics, but I was panic-struck. Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it.
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I have been holding a dialogue with myself and girding myself to stand fast without running.
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I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
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To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and at the strange enigmatic ways of the world which she will spend lifetime trying to learn and understand.
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I knew you'd decide to be all right again.
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
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I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.
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I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
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I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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Is there no way out of the mind?
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When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.
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Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
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What I want back is what I was Before the bed, before the knife, Before the brooch-pin and the salve Fixed me in this parenthesis Horses fluent in the wind, A place, a time gone out of mind.
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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
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I am not cruel, only truthful.
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…'It always has to end, doesn't it? We always have to separate.' 'Yes,' I said. He was insistent, 'But it doesn't always have to be that way. We could be together some day for always.' 'Oh, no,' I told him, wondering if he knew it was all over. 'We keep running till we die. We separate, get further apart, till we are dead.
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Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.
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