Quotes from Sylvia Plath

ÎÈ™i închipuiau c? eram aÈ™a de viteaz?, lucrând atât doar ca s? ascund o inim? frânt?.

At first I wondered why the room felt so safe. Then I realized it was because there were no windows.

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 center of empty air.

I know I'll always think of you with something like hurt and nostalgia— — from a letter to Ann Davdiow-Goodman, written 1951

People were made of nothing but dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick and couldn't sleep

By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.

I thought it would be the way I'd feel if I ever visited Europe. I'd come home, and if I looked closely into the mirror I'd be able to make out a little white Alp at the back of my eye. Now I thought that if I looked closely into the mirror I'd see a doll-size Constantin sitting in my eye and smiling out at me

Tudo o que eu já lera sobre gente maluca havia se fixado no meu cérebro, enquanto o resto evaporou.

Y yo sabía que a pesar de todas las rosas y besos y cenas en restaurantes que un hombre hacía llover sobre una mujer antes de casarse con ella, lo que secretamente deseaba para cuando la ceremonia de boda terminase era aplastarla bajo sus pies como la alfombra de la señora Willard.

Always him. Damn, what is the matter with me? Is it because I want somebody to orient myself about that I'm drawn to him, or am I drawn to him because he is exactly the sort of person I want to orient myself about?

The silence surged back, smoothing itself as black water smooths to its old surface calm over a dropped stone.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell.

It never occurred to me to say no

Five balls! Five bright brass balls! To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

Kafamda ak?l nam?na ne kalm??sa onu kullanarak bedenimi tuzaÄŸa düÅŸürmem gerekiyordu, yoksa beni elli y?l boyunca o ahmak kafesinde hiçbir anlam? olmayan bir yaÅŸama mahkûm edecekti.

The sweaty cotton gave off a sour but friendly smell.

I'd say go to hell, but I never want to see you again.

What did I think was wrong? That made it sound as if nothing was really wrong, I only thought is was wrong.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for all the good it did me.

And I said I wanted to live in the country and in the city both?

El silencio me deprimió. No era el silencio del silencio. Era mi propio silencio. Sabía perfectamente que los coches hacían ruido, y que la gente que iba dentro o la que estaba detrás de las ventanas iluminadas de los edificios hacía ruido, y que el río hacía ruido, y sin embargo no podía escuchar nada.

By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me. I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.

I'd discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty