Quote

And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.

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
Gray
Future
Suicide
Past
May
Commit
Dispose
Wells
Empty
Parrots
Well
Mass
Shell
Made
Cold
Shells
Thinking
Present
Reasoning
Waiting

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
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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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There was a beautiful time.
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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.
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Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one’s ashes, the gray scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York.
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And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.
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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.
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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!
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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.
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I think if I had done anything else I would like to have been a doctor. This is the sort of polar opposition to being a writer, I suppose.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
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All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung suspended a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.
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If only a group of people were more important to me than the idea of a Novel, I might begin a novel.
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Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
Sylvia Plath
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And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.
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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
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With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous and alarmingly timeless love for you which will always be.
Sylvia Plath