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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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
Pill
Pills
Thin
Kill
Feeling
Taken
Feelings
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
The claw of the magnolia, drunk on its own scents, asks nothing of life.
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Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself...the old primitive urge for survival. It's getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity.
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I'm happier writing about doctors than I would have been being one.
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
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I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off.
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Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.
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I decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover, and that I would never learn a word of shorthand. If I never learned shorthand I would never have to use it.
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The thing about writing is not to talk, but to do it no matter how bad or even mediocre it is, the process and production is the thing, not the sitting and theorizing about how one should write ideally, or how well one could write if one really wanted to or had the time.
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A man's world is different from a woman's world and a man's emotions are different from a woman's emotions and only marriage can bring the two different sets of emotions together properly.
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I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise with these cries from the heart that are informed by nothing except a needle or a knife, or whatever it is.
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Sometimes I nursed starfish alive in jam jars of seawater and watched them grow back lost arms. On this day, this awful birthday of otherness, my rival, somebody else, I flung the starfish against a stone. Let it perish.
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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.
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I could never be a complete scholar or a complete housewife ora completewriter: Imustcombinea little of all, and thereby be imperfect in all.
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I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.
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I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me.
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See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
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The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.
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It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
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I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.
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I would say everything should be able to come into a poem, but I can't put toothbrushes into a poem, I really can't!
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