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I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
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
Shoot
Excitement
Rocket
Change
Rockets
Wanted
Colored
Like
Arrows
July
Directions
Fourth
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
A skeptic, I would ask for consistency first of all.
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My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
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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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Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?
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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.
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Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.
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As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.
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The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted & spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
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Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.
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…'It always has to end, doesn't it? We always have to separate.' 'Yes,' I said. He was insistent, 'But it doesn't always have to be that way. We could be together some day for always.' 'Oh, no,' I told him, wondering if he knew it was all over. 'We keep running till we die. We separate, get further apart, till we are dead.
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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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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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But when I took up my pen, my hand made big, jerky letters like those of a child, and the lines sloped down the page from left to right horizontally, as if they were loops of string lying on the paper, and someone had come along and blown them askew.
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I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.
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It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.
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I do not fear it: I have been there.
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