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A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion an insight like the flight of birds.

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
Birds
Flight
Realists
Insight
Dreamers
Illusion
Fusion
Bird
Realist
Call
Brief
Real
Dreamer
Like
Fierce

More quotes by Sylvia Plath

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We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.
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What is so real as the cry of a child?
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To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and at the strange enigmatic ways of the world which she will spend lifetime trying to learn and understand.
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I need the reality of other people, work, to fulfill myself. Must never become a mere mother and housewife.
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What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid.
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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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So learn about life. Cut yourself a big slice with the silver server, a big slice of pie. Open your eyes. Let life happen.
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For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
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I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
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I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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I started adding up all the things I couldn't do.
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Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers' beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass.
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They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
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Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.
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I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me.
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You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.
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The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted & spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
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I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.
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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 am too pure for you or anyone.
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