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Your room is not your prison. You are.

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
Prison
Room
Rooms

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb, I had told Doctor Nolan. A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line.
Sylvia Plath
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God has to remind us this isn't heaven by a long shot, so he increases the radios and lethal flies.
Sylvia Plath
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I do not fear it: I have been there.
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I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
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But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it.
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I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.
Sylvia Plath
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I knew you'd decide to be all right again.
Sylvia Plath
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It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it.
Sylvia Plath
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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
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If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
Sylvia Plath
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I felt very low. I had been unmasked only that morning by Jay Cee herself, and I felt now that all the uncomfortable suspicions I had about myself were coming true. After nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one sort and another, I was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of race.
Sylvia Plath
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I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
Sylvia Plath
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Ash, ash —- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
Sylvia Plath
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To annihilate the world by annihilation of oneself is the deluded height of desperate egoism.
Sylvia Plath
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But I am I now and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of 'I' that I can hardly bear to think of it. I: how firm a letter how reassuring the three strokes: one vertical, proud and assertive, and then the two short horizontal lines in quick, smug succession. The pen scratching on the paper…I…I…I…I…I…I.
Sylvia Plath
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And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
Sylvia Plath
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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.
Sylvia Plath
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…beating time along the edge of thought.
Sylvia Plath
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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.
Sylvia Plath
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
Sylvia Plath