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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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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
Men
Flicker
Sensitivity
Pale
Eggs
Cooking
Lose
Loses
Must
Scrambled
More quotes by Sylvia Plath
I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
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I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss? Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?
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You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?
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because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.
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The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.
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I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
Sylvia Plath
Jealousy can open the blood, it can make black roses.
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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
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The box is only temporary.
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I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
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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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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.
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Sometimes I feel like I'm not solid. I'm hollow. There's nothing behind my eyes. I'm a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.
Sylvia Plath
I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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..I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
Sylvia Plath
There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
Sylvia Plath
I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
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I must get my soul back from you I am killing my flesh without it.
Sylvia Plath
