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That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
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
Funeral
Afternoon
Rose
Brought
Save
Mother
Roses
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
What I cannot forgive is dishonesty - and no matter what, or how hard, I would rather know the truth of which I today had such a clear & devastating vision from his mouth than hear foul evasions, blurrings and rattiness.
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There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.
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God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
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It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
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I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
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And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.
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I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me.
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Winning or losing an argument, receiving an acceptance or rejection, is no proof of the validity or value of personal identity. One may be wrong, mistaken, or a poor craftsman, or just ignorant - but this is no indication of the true worth of one's total human identity: past, present and future!
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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
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I like people, but to learn about one individual always appeals to me more than anything.
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To learn and think to think and live to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
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Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
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They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
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At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.
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I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions.
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I am what I feel and think and do.
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A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
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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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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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A man's world is different from a woman's world and a man's emotions are different from a woman's emotions and only marriage can bring the two different sets of emotions together properly.
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