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Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.
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
Heart
Brute
Every
Fascists
Like
Brutes
Adore
Boots
Face
Adores
Faces
Boot
Woman
Fascist
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever.
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Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?
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I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.
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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 can't think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated.
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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 wish you’d find the exit out of my head.
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Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.
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I dream too much, work too little.
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I feel terribly vulnerable and 'not-myself' when I'm not writing.
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I said: I must remember this, being small.
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I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.
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It was sometime in October she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
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I am myself. That is not enough.
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I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
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A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
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we walk the plank with strangers.
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I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free—— The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
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I knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big card of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.
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