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Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.

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
Discipline
Poetry
Small
Space
Away
Feel
Tyrannical
Feels
Burn
Fast

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I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.
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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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The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.
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…'It always has to end, doesn't it? We always have to separate.' 'Yes,' I said. He was insistent, 'But it doesn't always have to be that way. We could be together some day for always.' 'Oh, no,' I told him, wondering if he knew it was all over. 'We keep running till we die. We separate, get further apart, till we are dead.
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I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my hair down to my waist, and reaching out for my first little squirmy child and saying its name, whatever it was.
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You are a dream I hope I never meet you.
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I like people, but to learn about one individual always appeals to me more than anything.
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I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.
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Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.
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That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
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I am made, crudely, for success.
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And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.
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The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.
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