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Sunday-the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.
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
Clubs
Mistresses
Doctors
Resolutely
Everywhere
Yacht
Wife
Wives
Church
Mistress
Country
Sunday
People
Paradise
Yachts
Doctor
Seaside
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
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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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When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever.
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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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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 have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.
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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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See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
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And you grit your teeth, despising yourself for your tremulous sensitivity, and wondering how human beings can suffer their individualities to be mercilessly crushed under a machinelike dictatorship, be it of industry, state or organization, all their lives long.
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Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.
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I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mini.
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As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin I am I. That stone is a stone. My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over.
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I must get my soul back from you I am killing my flesh without it.
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I like people too much or not at all.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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What I want back is what I was Before the bed, before the knife, Before the brooch-pin and the salve Fixed me in this parenthesis Horses fluent in the wind, A place, a time gone out of mind.
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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.
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I've eaten a bag of Green apples. Boarded the train, there's no getting off
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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
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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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