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This seemed a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.

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
Night
Clean
Cook
School
Marriage
Fifteen
Teacher
Cooks
Dreary
Years
Wife
Till
Professor
Life
Knew
Straight
Wash
Like
Morning
University
Buddy
Girl
Seemed
Wasted
Mother
Private
Professors

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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Is anyone anywhere happy?
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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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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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The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.
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I used to pray to recover you.
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I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
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So learn about life. Cut yourself a big slice with the silver server, a big slice of pie. Open your eyes. Let life happen.
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I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.
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What is so real as the cry of a child?
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Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person
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Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
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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 had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.
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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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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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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.
Sylvia Plath
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In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp green soap navigates the tidal slosh of seas breaking on legendary beaches in faith 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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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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I do not know who I am tonight.
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I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around with me, like the relic of a dead lover, till they wore off of their own accord.
Sylvia Plath