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So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.

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
Thinking
Lifetime
Working
Reading
Living
Enough
Much
Long

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What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline, you've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space that you've just got to turn away all the peripherals.
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I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
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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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I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
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Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
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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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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.
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I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again.
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Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.
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A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals.
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I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.
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A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
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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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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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I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
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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.
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