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I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.

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
Really
People
Plenty
Looked
Didn
Look
Looks

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
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Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?
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Winter is for women The woman still at her knitting, At the cradle of Spanish walnut, Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
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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 am too pure for you or anyone.
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I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.
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That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
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I felt the mask crumple, the great poisonous store of corrosive ashes begin to spew out of my mouth.
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I started adding up all the things I couldn't do.
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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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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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Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
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The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.
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If you pluck out my heart To find what makes it move, You’ll halt the clock That syncopates our love.
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The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.
Sylvia Plath
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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
Sylvia Plath
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
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I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.
Sylvia Plath
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There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart - It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge, For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
Sylvia Plath