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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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
Monkey
Monkeys
Slowly
Catch
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.
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I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.
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A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
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For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
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I may have made a straight A in physics, but I was panic-struck. Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it.
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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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I want, I think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself the girl who wanted to be God. Yet if I were not in this body where would I be-perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it.
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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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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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And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
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I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.
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I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak.
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I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.
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Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?
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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.
Sylvia Plath
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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Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.
Sylvia Plath
I need the reality of other people, work, to fulfill myself. Must never become a mere mother and housewife.
Sylvia Plath
Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
Sylvia Plath
Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.
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