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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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
Attacked
Selfless
Develop
Sense
Self
Must
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
I felt the first man I slept with must be intelligent, so I could respect him.
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If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.
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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.
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It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
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Don't let the wicked city get you down.
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I am not cruel, only truthful.
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The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
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Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.
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To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and at the strange enigmatic ways of the world which she will spend lifetime trying to learn and understand.
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What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.
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Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
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The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted & spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
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Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
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I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.
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The claw of the magnolia, drunk on its own scents, asks nothing of life.
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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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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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We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.
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