Quotes from Sylvia Plath

The room blued into view, and I wondered where the night had gone.

A small, answering point in my own body flew toward it. I felt my lungs inflate with the inrush of scenery- air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.

Every day, writing. No matter how bad. Something will come.

I looked at the baby in the lap of the woman opposite. I had no idea how old it was, I never did, with babies—for all I knew it could talk a blue streak and had twenty teeth behind its pursed, pink lips.

All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.

Sheep In Fog The hills step off into whiteness. People or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them. The train leaves a line of breath. O slow Horse the colour of rust, Hooves, dolorous bells ---- All morning the Morning has been blackening, A flower left out. My bones hold a stillness, the far Fields melt my heart. They threaten To let me through to a heaven Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

Dziewicza strona, bia?a. Pierwsza skalana i odrzucona. Wszystkie te marzenia, obietnice: czekanie, a? b?d? mog?a znowu pisa?, a potem bolesny, sfuszerowany gwa?t na pierwszej kartce.

Dla cz?owieka siedz?cego pod szklanym kloszem, znieczulonego na wszystko, zatrzymanego w rozwoju jak embrion w spirytusie, ca?e ?ycie jest jednym wielkim, z?ym snem. Z?y sen! Pami?tam ka?d? jego chwil?.

But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenceless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at.

He fathomed her, enclosed her. He did not see, or did not care to see, how her submissiveness moved and drew him, nor how now, through the steaming, suffocating baths of mist, she led him, and he followed, though the rainbows under the clear water were lost.

You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns-

There is something demoralising about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in that room

I simply don't know what to do. All joy and hope is gone.

I began to see why woman-haters could make such fools of women. Women-haters were like gods: invulnerable and chockfull of power. They descended, and then they disappeared. You could never catch one.

I tried to think what I had loved knives for, but my mind slipped from the noose of the thought and swung, like a bird, in the centre of empty air.

Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

I'll call you. Take care. And he was gone. So the rain comes down hard outside my room, and like Eddie Cohen, I say, ... fifteen thousand years - - - of what? We're still nothing but animals.

I was thinking that if I'd had the sense to go on living in that old town I might just have met this prison guard in school and married him and had a parcel of kids now. It would be nice, living by the sea with piles of kids and pigs and chickens, wearing what my grandmother called wash dresses, and sitting about in some kitchen with bright linoleum and fat arms, drinking pots of coffee.

Then the sunlight burst into the room through the venetian blinds; I breathed hard, filling my lungs with air. I could see my feet, my arms; there I was. I tried hard to get back in my body again Ã¢â'¬Â¦ it was such a long way to my feet.

The only problem was, Church, even the Catholic Church, didn't take up the whole of your life No matter how much you knelt and prayed, you still had to eat three meals a day and have a job and live in the world.

I certainly learned a lot of things I never would have learned otherwise this way, and even when they surprised me or made me sick I never let on, but pretended that's the way I knew things were all the time.

I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time Ã¢â'¬Â¦

He had what no American man I've ever met has had, and that's intuition.

There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.