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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ

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
Organs
Rare
Life
Like
Stitched
Organ

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
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What did my arms do before they held you?
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Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
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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.
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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 have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily.
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I feel that very strongly: having been an academic, having been tempted by the invitation to stay on to become a Ph.D., a professor, and all that, one side of me certainly does respect all disciplines, as long as they don't ossify.
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I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love.
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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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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 fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
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Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.
Sylvia Plath
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A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage.
Sylvia Plath
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I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
Sylvia Plath
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We know a thing by its opposite corollary hot by having experienced cold good by having decided what is bad love by hate.
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I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
Sylvia Plath
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I am not cruel, only truthful.
Sylvia Plath
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I want to kill myself, to escape from responsiblity, to crawl abjectly back into the womb.
Sylvia Plath
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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
Sylvia Plath
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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.
Sylvia Plath