If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.
SYLVIA PLATHI find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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Only I wasn’t steering anything, not even myself.
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I write only because There is a voice within me That will not be still.
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I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
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Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
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We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.
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I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
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The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted and spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
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There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room.
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Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
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So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.
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I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.
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I smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists.
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There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
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Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.
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The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn’t thought about it.
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She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
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I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life.
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Don’t let the wicked city get you down.
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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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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
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When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take it back. It’s gone forever.
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Compared with me, a tree is immortal.
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I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
SYLVIA PLATH