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I want, I think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself the girl who wanted to be God. Yet if I were not in this body where would I be-perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it.

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
Body
Omniscient
Wanted
Classified
Would
Qualified
Think
Destined
Thinking
Cry
Like
Perhaps
Call
Girl

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.
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As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
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August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
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God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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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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I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
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All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung suspended a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.
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Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.
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I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.
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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 dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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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.
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I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.
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In spite of everything, I still have my good old sense of humor.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I am myself. That is not enough.
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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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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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