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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.

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
White
Walls
Hands
Chaos
Light
Bed
Nothing
Lies
Wall
Nobody
Peacefulness
Learning
Explosions
Lying
Quietly

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It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.
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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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I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is an American way of talk, I'm an old-fashioned American. That's probably one of the reasons why I'm in England now and why I'll always stay in England.
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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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Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.
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Winning or losing an argument, receiving an acceptance or rejection, is no proof of the validity or value of personal identity. One may be wrong, mistaken, or a poor craftsman, or just ignorant - but this is no indication of the true worth of one's total human identity: past, present and future!
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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
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I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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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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I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.
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I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.
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I think I may well be a Jew.
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My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
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It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
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I collected men with interesting names. I already knew a Socrates. He was tall and ugly and intellectual and the son of some big Greek movie producer in Hollywood, but also a Catholic, which ruined it for both of us.
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You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one ready-made for you.
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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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