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Read widely of others' experiences, even if it'd be more comfortable to snuggle back in the comforting cotton-wool of blissful ignorance.

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
Back
Cotton
Even
Comforting
Life
Experiences
Ignorance
Comfortable
Snuggle
Read
Blissful
Inspirational
Wool
Others
Widely

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
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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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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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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I don't know what started me, I just wrote poetry from the time was quite small. I guess I liked nursery rhymes and I guess I thought I could do the same thing. I wrote my first poem, my first published poem, when I was eight-and-a-half years old. It came out in The Boston Traveller and from then on, I suppose, I've been a bit of a professional.
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I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.
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I can't think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated.
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If every soldier refused to take arms ... there would be no wars but no one has the courage to be the first to live according to Christ and Socrates, because in a world of opportunists they would be martyred.
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It never occurred to me to say no.
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I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.
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I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
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The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.
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The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm
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Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.
Sylvia Plath
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I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
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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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I knew you'd decide to be all right again.
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I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love.
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If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.
Sylvia Plath