Quote

But I am I now and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of 'I' that I can hardly bear to think of it. I: how firm a letter how reassuring the three strokes: one vertical, proud and assertive, and then the two short horizontal lines in quick, smug succession. The pen scratching on the paper…I…I…I…I…I…I.

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
Three
Letters
Strokes
Irretrievably
Two
Bears
Pens
Smug
Many
Paper
Letter
Scratching
Think
Short
Quick
Assertive
Thinking
Proud
Hardly
Horizontal
Millions
Firm
Vertical
Special
Variety
Reassuring
Lines
Bear
Succession

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Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
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God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
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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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You smile. No, it is not fatal.
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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.
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And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.
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I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
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And there's the fallacy of existence: the idea that one could be happy forever and age with a given situation or series of accomplishments.
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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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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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At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.
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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion an insight like the flight of birds.
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So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off.
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Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.
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It was sometime in October she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.
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Don't let the wicked city get you down.
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I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
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