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For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.

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
Evasion
Prose
Poetry
Jobs
Real
Writing

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is an American way of talk, I'm an old-fashioned American. That's probably one of the reasons why I'm in England now and why I'll always stay in England.
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Secretly, in studies and attics and schoolrooms all over America, people must be writing.
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I am myself. That is not enough.
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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.
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The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.
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There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart - It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge, For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
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I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
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You smile. No, it is not fatal.
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I have the one person I could ever love in this world. Now I must work to be a person worthy of that.
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I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
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If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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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.
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I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
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Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
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A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion an insight like the flight of birds.
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I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn.
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The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.
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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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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.
Sylvia Plath