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I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrifying, like madness, being tortured...with an informed and intelligent mind.

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
Intelligent
Control
Able
Tortured
Even
Terrifying
Mind
Manipulate
Believe
Informed
Like
Madness
Experiences

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
Sylvia Plath
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I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.
Sylvia Plath
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Ash, ash —- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
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Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.
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With that strange knowing that comes over me, like a clairvoyance, I know that I am sure of myself and my enormous and alarmingly timeless love for you which will always be.
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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.
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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I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!
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She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
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Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.
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Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one’s ashes, the gray scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York.
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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.
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.
Sylvia Plath
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The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.
Sylvia Plath
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And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
Sylvia Plath
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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.
Sylvia Plath
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
Sylvia Plath
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Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.
Sylvia Plath
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Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
Sylvia Plath
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The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.
Sylvia Plath