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I think if I had done anything else I would like to have been a doctor. This is the sort of polar opposition to being a writer, I suppose.
Sylvia Plath
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Sylvia Plath
Age: 30 †
Born: 1932
Born: October 27
Died: 1963
Died: February 11
Autobiographer
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Essayist
Novelist
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Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Victoria Lucas
Sylvia Plath Hughes
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More quotes by Sylvia Plath
Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
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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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Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
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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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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.
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I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.
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A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
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To learn and think to think and live to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
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Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.
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Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
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And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness
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I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.
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With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.
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I have been holding a dialogue with myself and girding myself to stand fast without running.
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The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
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I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three... nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as I would, I couldn't see a single pole beyond the nineteenth.
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Tomorrow is another day toward death.
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Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.
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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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