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My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.

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
Life
Prison
Discipline
Live
Without
Nothing
Work

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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That’s one of the reasons I never wanted to get married. The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. 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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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline, you've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space that you've just got to turn away all the peripherals.
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You are a dream I hope I never meet you.
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I dream too much, work too little.
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It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are Catholic. I can't see their beliefs, but I can see the things they love to do on earth. When you come right down to it, I do believe in the freedom of the individual.
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A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals.
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Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
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I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
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The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.
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I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
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She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
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When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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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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The box is only temporary.
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It never occurred to me to say no.
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I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
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I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.
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I do not love I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit.
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Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.
Sylvia Plath