Quote

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.

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
Gone
Shifting
Start
Hopeless
Always
Judge
Life
Judging
Like
Second
Dead
Quicksand
Present
Melting
Forever
Flowing

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For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
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I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody I have nothing to do with explosions.
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In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp green soap navigates the tidal slosh of seas breaking on legendary beaches in faith we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
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I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
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I'm about fifty years behind as far as my preferences go and I must say that the poets who excite me most are the Americans. There are very few contemporary English poets that I admire.
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You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.
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I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.
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As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
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No day is safe from news of you.
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Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.
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What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.
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Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.
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Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person
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And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
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I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
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Sunday-the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.
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It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it.
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Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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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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