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I need the reality of other people, work, to fulfill myself. Must never become a mere mother and housewife.
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
Reality
Become
Need
Must
Needs
Housewife
Work
Fulfill
Never
Mere
People
Mother
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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 used to pray to recover you.
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What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
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If I was going to fall, I would hang on to my small comforts, at least, for as long as I possibly could.
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If every soldier refused to take arms ... there would be no wars but no one has the courage to be the first to live according to Christ and Socrates, because in a world of opportunists they would be martyred.
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I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
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I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again.
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…beating time along the edge of thought.
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I would say everything should be able to come into a poem, but I can't put toothbrushes into a poem, I really can't!
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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 have been holding a dialogue with myself and girding myself to stand fast without running.
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I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.
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Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.
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My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.
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It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
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I knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big card of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.
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I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around with me, like the relic of a dead lover, till they wore off of their own accord.
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What I didn't say was that each time I picked up a German dictionary or a German book, the very sight of those dense, black, barbed-wire letters made my mind shut like a clam.
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The only reason I remembered this play was because it had a mad person in it, and everything I had ever read about mad people stuck in my mind, while everything else flew out.
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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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