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Not being perfect hurts.

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
Hurt
Perfect
Hurts

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We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.
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I knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big card of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.
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Is there no way out of the mind?
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I like people too much or not at all.
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Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.
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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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All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung suspended a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.
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I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
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As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
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I'm about fifty years behind as far as my preferences go and I must say that the poets who excite me most are the Americans. There are very few contemporary English poets that I admire.
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I do not know who I am tonight.
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I was my own woman. The next step was to find the proper sort of man.
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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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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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There is more than one good way to drown.
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
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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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Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.
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I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
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