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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
Discipline
Live
Without
Nothing
Work
Life
Prison

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We know a thing by its opposite corollary hot by having experienced cold good by having decided what is bad love by hate.
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In spite of everything, I still have my good old sense of humor.
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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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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 have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.
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What is so real as the cry of a child?
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The thing about writing is not to talk, but to do it no matter how bad or even mediocre it is, the process and production is the thing, not the sitting and theorizing about how one should write ideally, or how well one could write if one really wanted to or had the time.
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And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.
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I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.
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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.
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If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
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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 got to burn away all the peripherals.
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Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.
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Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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