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Sylvia Plath Quote - The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

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Abstract Concrete Kill One Liner Save

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

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

Breath Heart Listen Peace Self Love
I am myself. That is not enough.
SYLVIA PLATH

Enough Inspirational Myself Self Love Women Empowerment
I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
SYLVIA PLATH

Broken Heart Desire Destroy Ending Expectation
Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
SYLVIA PLATH

Art Broken Heart Depression Die Exceptional
Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
SYLVIA PLATH

Cheer Growth Life Positive Soul Spring
What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.
SYLVIA PLATH

Death Depression Fear Imagination Thinking
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
SYLVIA PLATH

Contain Crack Darkness Leak Life
A man’s world is different from a woman’s world and a man’s emotions are different from a woman’s emotions and only marriage can bring the two different sets of emotions together properly.
SYLVIA PLATH

Different Emotions Man Togetherness Woman World
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
SYLVIA PLATH

Creative Doubt Enemy Gut Imagination Life Worst Writing
I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
SYLVIA PLATH

Absolute Finding Fulfillemnt Myself Poem Writing
I am what I feel and think and do.
SYLVIA PLATH

Attitude Feeling One Liner Thinking
What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
SYLVIA PLATH

Age Education Fade Feminism Horrible Ideas Indifference
I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.
SYLVIA PLATH

Intense Life Novel Perhaps Poetry
I dream too much, work too little.
SYLVIA PLATH

Dreams Work Writing
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
SYLVIA PLATH

Children Perfection Terrible
The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
SYLVIA PLATH

Broken Heart Depression Pain Sad Silence

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