Quote

I felt very low. I had been unmasked only that morning by Jay Cee herself, and I felt now that all the uncomfortable suspicions I had about myself were coming true. After nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one sort and another, I was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of race.

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
Years
Coming
Suspicion
Good
Sort
Grants
Unmasked
Morning
Prize
Suspicions
Race
Letting
Prizes
Felt
Uncomfortable
Slowing
Running
Lows
Nineteen
Another
Mark
Marks
True
Clean
Dropping

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I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily.
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I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three... nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as I would, I couldn't see a single pole beyond the nineteenth.
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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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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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Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.
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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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Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.
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But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.
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I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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we walk the plank with strangers.
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Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
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I said: I must remember this, being small.
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It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, A palace of velvet With windows of mirrors. There one is safe, There are no family photographs, No rings through the nose, no cries.
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I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
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