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Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
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
Among
Midwife
Watch
Bald
Took
Fats
Place
Cry
Going
Elements
Love
Gold
Like
Birth
Watches
Slapped
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?
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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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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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A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
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If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free—— The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
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Your room is not your prison. You are.
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With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.
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The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.
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And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.
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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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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
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Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself...the old primitive urge for survival. It's getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity.
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I could never be a complete scholar or a complete housewife ora completewriter: Imustcombinea little of all, and thereby be imperfect in all.
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I do not fear it: I have been there.
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What is so real as the cry of a child?
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Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.
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And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.
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