Quote

Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God — or the universal woman-and-man — or anything much. I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can because I somewhere picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.

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
Think
Idea
Justify
Thinking
Anything
Express
Ideas
Fully
Feel
Somewhere
Feels
Universal
Much
Impossible
Way
Alive
Picked
Men
Woman
Frustrated

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Is there no way out of the mind?
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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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Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.
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Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.
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Don't let the wicked city get you down.
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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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I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
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You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.
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I talk to God but the sky is empty.
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…beating time along the edge of thought.
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I decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover, and that I would never learn a word of shorthand. If I never learned shorthand I would never have to use 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.
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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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I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.
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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.
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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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Is anyone anywhere happy?
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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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But everybody has exactly the same smiling frightened face, with the look that says: I'm important. If you only get to know me, you will see how important I am. Look into my eyes. Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.
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I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
Sylvia Plath